Called
Fragments, the booklets for both volumes of this
cycle of the Shostakovich string quartets begin with a T.S. Eliot
quote, “These fragments I have shored against my ruins”, from
The Waste Land. If you’re anything like me, you’ll get
this set home, and dive straight for the last track on disc 4,
intrigued to hear what new Shostakovich sounds are on offer from
the 1961 unfinished string quartet fragments. Well, you may be
in for a surprise, since Foghorn Classics have put in a little
unlisted trademark track of the sound of a foghorn, track 19,
where the fragments are on the penultimate track 18. There, now
I’ve spoilt it for everyone, but at least I’ll receive no ‘aghast’
e-mails accusing me of not having listened to the thing. These
little extras crop up elsewhere, and in my view are something
on which this label will have to think seriously about economising
– especially in repertoire of this seriousness.
The Alexander Quartet performed their cycle of the complete Shostakovich
string quartets at the Baruch Performing Arts Center in New York
in 2006, coincidentally as the Emerson Quartet were doing the
same thing just down the road in the Alice Tully Hall. A review
in the New York Times actually preferred the Alexander over the
Emerson Quartet, so there can be little doubt that these recordings
promise to be in the top rank of recent surveys of these works.
The writer also pointed out that, while the one ensemble received
numerous awards, the other seemed to go more or less unrecognised
by the higher echelons of commercial and artistic life. The Alexander
Quartet does well enough, but with the Emerson Quartet’s Deutsche
Grammophon Shostakovich cycle
review
having for instance won a Gramophone Award I do wonder what kind
of attention this new Foghorn Classics cycle will be given.
There’s an irony about writing reviews, and I am sure there are
colleagues who would agree, that it is relatively easy to write
a critical commentary of a performance or recording which has
plenty of faults, or which is just plain beige. One can get down
to work, pointing out weaknesses while balancing these against
the positive aspects of a production and that of the competition,
and before you know it the job is complete. Listening to these
new Shostakovich recordings from the start, my immediate impression
was that the playing lacked some of that intense grittiness I’m
more used to hearing from my principal reference, that of the
Fitzwilliam Quartet on Decca. I have spent a lot of time with
the Alexander Quartet recordings however, partially thanks to
a botched hernia operation which kept me off work for longer than
necessary. As a result of this extra listening, I’ve come to appreciate
how, as with their survey of the Beethoven Quartets, this ensemble
clearly approaches the music with a view to its place in the composer’s
timeline as well as purely on musical/aesthetic grounds. Both
they and the Fitzwilliam Quartet allow the sunnier aspects of
the music to sing through in the
Quartet No.1, with those
shades of angst held well in proportion. The dramatic extremes
of the
Quartet No.2 are, I think, more open to wider
interpretation – is it dark or light, secretive or intimate? The
Fitzwilliam Quartet’s view is I feel more on the dark side, bringing
out the sense of mortality that the composer’s wartime experiences
introduced. The Alexander Quartet introduces some more of the
dancing qualities in the opening, perhaps emphasising more of
the celebrations of heroism in the air at the time. Zakarias Grafilo
has been the Alexander’s 1
st violin for a while now,
having replaced Ge-Fang Yang in 2000. His fine, deep tone gives
the second movement’s
Recitative a strong character,
lightening like the opening of a stained-glass window into the
faux-naive
Romance which follows. Their third movement
Waltz for me conjures the atmosphere of a smoky, dark
wood-panelled interior, with this music coming to us on the soundtrack
of a black and white film – the 78 rpm player’s horn introducing
an element of sculpture into the picture. The muted strings repress
the ebullience of the second section, maintaining that hazy image
and introducing Shostakovich’s signature neurotic turbulence of
conflict and struggle. The final Adagio
Theme with Variations
begins with less of a symphonic scale than with the Fitzwilliam,
but this more gentle opening allows the music to develop and grow,
the full impact of the final bars providing a true climax.
For the
Quartet No.3 I can offer a comparison with that
lovely DG recording with the
Hagen
Quartett. The greater transparency this 2006 recording offers
over the Fitzwilliam’s is punctuated with needle-sharp articulation
and wide contrasts of tone and character. With equal technical
panache and some subtle twists the Alexander Quartet create their
own view on this seminal work. The opening is a little less jaunty
than with the Hagens, more of a swaggering walk than a quasi-jolly
dance. As a result, their sound in the following counterpoint
is less urgent but no less characterful – it certainly avoids
becoming laboured and static. Rather than go all-out with the
pesante viola triad in the opening of the second movement,
this becomes more of an accompaniment, allowing the flow of the
upper instruments their full expression. On balance, the Alexanders
for some reason sound slower almost through the entirety of this
quartet, though the timings don’t always bear this out. They somehow
convey the feeling of creating space around the notes even where
the textures in the music would seem to make this as good as impossible.
There is certainly no lack of urgency in the
Allegro non troppo,
and the subsequent
Adagio refuses to ramble and lose
shape, in this case shaving almost half a minute off the Hagen’s
timing. I’m torn between these two recordings of this quartet,
which has to be a good thing. I suppose a smidge more forward
momentum might have given the Alexander Quartet the edge in the
final
Moderato, and a tad greater sense of involvement
in the in-between tracts of this arguably over-long movement.
I do however admire their sense of apocalyptic passion where the
music demands, and their elegance of tone in the relatively high-pitched
tessitura in this quartet. Come back to me in a year’s time and
I’ll probably still be humming and hawing. The Hagen Quartett
is lively and filled with contrast, but there are one or two moments
of fast gear-change where I ‘notice’ them, not really a faltering,
but having a moment of marginal discomfort where the Alexanders
sail on regardless.
Quartet No.4 is muted in more ways than one, with two
of its movements being played with mutes, giving the instruments
that hazy, secretive feeling. The rest of the piece is also very
subdued in atmosphere, though the Alexander Quartet are sensitive
to the changes of internal colour in each section, including the
dance-like feel of the penultimate
Allegretto and ultimately
protesting final movement. The final blast of a foghorn is unfortunate.
Once is a novelty, more than that is disrespectful to all concerned,
and I’ll leave it at that. Coming back to this piece from the
Fitzwilliam Quartet, and I find their silvery tone has a more
chilling effect – less warmly intimate and more intense. It’s
not that the Alexanders are cosily fireside cheerful, but by degrees
one does sense something more of a connection with the Russian
character from the Fitzwilliam Quartet. It’s as if the Alexander
players take the work as the private statement it became, hidden
from the public until the death of Stalin in 1953. From the Fitzwilliam
Quartet it’s Shostakovich’s view on the Russian people through
the wrong end of a telescope, dancing like puppets, or, awaiting
the thaw; suppressed celebrations going on merely in their minds.
These are two views with equal validity – and at least the Alexander
Quartet is a clear winner in terms of intonation.
Like its predecessor, the
Quartet No.5 was held back
from public performance until 1953, and with its dissonant complexities
it’s not really hard to hear why this was the case. Eric Bromberger
in his excellent booklet notes points out that this is one of
the darkest in the entire cycle, and at over 30 minutes is a serious
proposition for both players and audience. I won’t say the Alexander
Quartet make it sound easy, but neither do they seem fazed by
the extremes in the first movements. It is in this magisterial
mastery of such technical obstacles that they win out over many
other recordings, the tonalities remaining clear even when everyone
seems to be trying to play as high as possible all at once. The
jaunty character of the
Quartet No.6 always comes as
something of a surprise after all that almost silent intensity
at the end of the fifth. Shostakovich had re-married, somewhat
impulsively it has to be said, but the sunny nature of the music
reflects some of the optimism he must have felt at the time. The
Alexander players stroke the softer phrases with appropriate affection,
but don’t hold back on some of the passages of conflict and strange
passion in the opening
Allegretto. The contrasting lyrical
and rhythmic characters in the second movement are highly attractive,
just the right amount of symbolism – if that’s what you are looking
for: like two opposites which somehow attract and harmonise.
Taking a break from the quartets, and I was delighted to see some
of the Op.87 Preludes and Fugues, originally for piano, and arranged
here for string quartet by Zakarias Grafilo. The effect with these
arrangements is quite different to that of the same music on piano,
but Shostakovich’s idiom in these pieces works extremely well
for strings. The Alexander Quartet balance the voicing with easy
expertise, which is essential for any kind of comprehension in
this kind of contrapuntal music, but I was surprised to hear a
moment or two of dodgy intonation in the
Prelude & Fugue
in C minor. The famous
Prelude & Fugue in D-flat
major opens almost inevitably rather heavier with strings,
but the ear soon accepts the music on its own terms, and the textures
are relieved by some gorgeously witty and well-executed pizzicati.
The fugue itself becomes a new Shostakovich animal in its own
right, with even more of the neuroses than you have with the piano
version. The darkness of the
Quartet No.13 is lightened
in the final disc of this set, as it concludes with the sprightly
Op.87 No.17. The parallel movements in the prelude create
some interesting sonorities, and the fugue comes across with an
almost naive sense of simplicity.
Op.87 No.1 could possibly
have used a little more space in the famous opening C major prelude
– the strings could have sustained those chords so nicely, but
at least they prevent the music turning into a church chorale.
The fugue is one of Shostakovich’s most noble statements, and
works well with strings. As ever with such transparent music,
it is the intonation which proves more problematic than one might
expect, and this fugue is full of niggly augmented and diminished
intervals which do create some minor problems. My hat goes off
to Zakarias Grafilo for his excellent arrangements however, and
these pieces certainly make for equally, if no more effective
string quartet music than some of those
Bach
Fugues.
Another substantial extra is the
Piano Quintet in G minor
Op.57. Joined by the powerful piano playing of Roger Woodward,
the quartet seems to shrink in size a little, and I would personally
have had a little less presence in the piano sound. It’s partly
sheer balance, but also that the piano is a fraction too far forward,
which meant I felt a bit bludgeoned when those repeated high notes
come in. The performance is very good however. I compared it with
one of my favourites, that with the
Nash
Ensemble on Virgin Classics, and in terms of tempi and timings
there is little to choose. Ian Brown’s piano is equally powerful
here, but as a listener one feels at a marginally more respectful
and realistic distance. The Nash Ensemble strings are a little
more nasal, the Alexander ‘sound’ richer and warmer in general.
As with the differences in character with the Fitzwilliam Quartet,
this gives the Nash Ensemble an impression of greater intensity.
Taken in isolation the Alexander performance is fine, with its
own forceful sense of communication. It doesn’t however
quite
take your soul to the same pain barrier as some performances.
I was interested to see that the 1950 recording made by Shostakovich
himself with the Borodin Quartet differs from these interpretations,
with significantly longer
Fugue and
Intermezzo
movements, adding around two minutes to each. The sustained emotion
created in these movements does take you to different worlds,
especially in the
Fugue. It is intriguing to make such
comparisons and as a historical document this recording is priceless,
but I have to admit the transfer on my 1991 Vogue CD is pretty
atrocious in parts.
Returning to the quartets, and we’re up to
No.7. Remarkably
compact at around 13 minutes, the striking pizzicato feature in
the first movement is taken toothsomely by the Alexander players,
with plenty of resonance and a fearless attack. Absolute rhythmic
security is also an essential aspect of this piece, not only in
the fast ostinati of the opening and final movements, but also
in the wandering legato lines of the second. The Hagen Quartett
undercut the Alexander by over a minute in this piece, a result
of a brisker
Lento and wilder finale. The Hagens have
a lighter, more skittish view of the complex final movement, and
it’s a question of whether you prefer this over the Alexander’s
greater heft. There’s no doubt that the Hagen Quartett is extremely
exciting, but you almost feel you have to look the other way in
the presence of such almost indecently showy virtuosity. I do
appreciate Paul Yarbrough’s rough viola entries in this movement,
and find the overall impression to have more than enough grit
and spirit. The final pages are indeed ‘haunting and moving’.
Volume 2 of this set appears in a separate gatefold package with
a clear family resemblance to the first, and begins with the ever
so famous
String Quartet No.8. As per expectations, the
Alexander Quartet creates a fine atmosphere in the opening, although
there are one or two places where I felt the width of some intervals
received short change, with some resultant intonation questions.
Such minor points are picky to be sure, but with boring old perfection
as our goal they end up being mentioned, even when the performance
of the piece as a whole is one of the strongest I know. The energy
in the
Allegro molto and
Allegretto movements
is high octane, and all the elements are present to keep bringing
you back for more. The sheer texture in the sound of the quartet
is worth mentioning here, but is valid for the whole set. All
important is the resonant power of Sandy Wilson’s cello, underpinning
the harmonies, but also capable of rattling your tonsillectomy
scars at moments like the ferocious chords in the first of the
two
Lento movements in
No.8. Zakarias Grafilo’s
first violin can be gorgeously sweet over the top of everyone,
but is held in reserve and very much part of the ensemble for
most of the time – his genuine solos are special, but as with
the cello, you are often barely aware of how his sound is so influential
on the quality of the whole. Frederick Lifsitz’s second violin
is slightly more elliptical in sound, supporting and refined,
unobtrusive but in no way subservient. Paul Yarbrough’s viola
can be like the deep furrow in a ploughed field of clay, cutting
through with a life of its own, but as with all the other instruments
it is chameleon, changing colour alongside the rest. Yes, I hear
you say, but this is the way things
should be with string
quartets, and surely just typical good ensemble practice. Agreed
– but don’t be surprised when you seek out some prime examples
of flabby-vibrato 1
st violin, arrhythmic 2
nd,
atonal violas or tubby cellos by way of a reply. Back to Shostakovich’s
Quartet No.8, and it is clear that this ensemble have
played this music until it has become engraved upon the whorls
of their fingerprints. There are myriad other recordings, each
with its own strengths, but as the music evolved I felt loath
to drag them all in for
post-mortem analysis. Rest assured,
I promise this recording will do you just fine.
The first recording of the
Unfinished String Quartet
fragment belongs around here as far as chronology goes. Shostakovich
mentioned starting a ninth quartet, a work in ‘the Russe style’,
which he then reported has having destroyed. Later, he indicated
work on a children’s piece, but neither of these was the ninth
quartet which eventually appeared in 1964. The fragment here was
discovered in the Shostakovich archives in 2003, and the booklet
notes carry further details on opus numbers and the like. Nobody
knows to which of the two attempts the music belongs, but, while
it is an interesting selling point for this set the fact remains
that this is not Shostakovich at his best. Like other such fragments,
such as the Grieg Piano Concerto fragment, you can hear the composer
tugging at rather weak ideas and becoming increasingly fed up
with the thing. It is very much characteristic of the composer,
and carries his unmistakeable rhythmic and melodic fingerprints.
What we do have is a fascinating glimpse of Shostakovich as a
fallible mortal: into the soup pan which was thrown away because
the burnt bits at the bottom were too gnarly to chip off – more
trouble than it was worth to revive the thing, better off starting
entirely afresh.
The
Quartets No.9 and
10 are just a little bit
older than me, having been written in May and July 1964 respectively.
Where some of the earlier quartets seem to reach for the skies
in terms of range, both of these quartets often explore lower
sonorities and darker colourations, sharing a more restrained
emotional world. This restraint is well expressed in the prayer-like
second movement
Adagio of the ninth quartet, played with
appropriately reserved vibrato by the Alexander players. The typical
contradiction of dance and wit in an
Allegretto which
expresses anything but joy is excruciatingly well presented, as
is the beatifically beautiful
Adagio fourth movement.
This is one of Shostakovich’s finest quartet moments, brutally
interrupted by ugly pizzicato and empty dissonances: contrast
to the
nth degree, the violent passages pointing cruel
bony fingers at such sentimentality. The final
Allegro
is treated with all the manic passion the music demands: The bizarre
dances border on insanity, the cello solo is alarming and invitingly
sensual at the same time, and the final pages are both affirmation
and a kind of eternal damnation – a nice trick, if you can pull
it off.
Quartet No.10 might have opened with a little
more of that secretive urgency which seems hidden in the music,
but with an
Andante marking the tempo here is nothing
less than entirely legitimate. With the
Allegretto furioso
the quartet here sees ‘furioso’ more in terms of intensity of
accent and ferocity of style rather than in any extremes of tempo,
and as the density of notes builds one can hear how this works
very well. Another Shostakovich masterpiece, the subsequent passacaglia
movement is played with its own inner intensity, but with a simple
lightness of tone which draws you in and becomes immediately involving,
and moving. This is a crucial moment in the cycle, so I did refer
once more to the Fitzwilliam Quartet recording. Here, there are
some quite extreme differences, the Fitzwilliam calling out at
once with an impassioned cry, a more rhapsodic statement which
is more overt and immediate. As the Alexander Quartet began more
softly, their even softer moments further in are transparent and
precious, like fine silk. The Fitzwilliam players leave themselves
more room to maintain that explosive potential, held within that
tightly controlled intensity of sound. You pays your money …,
and in the end I just find myself wanting both versions for all
of those different reasons.
The
Quartet No.11 was dedicated to the memory of Vassily
Shirinsky, for a long time Shostakovich’s friend, and second violinist
in the Beethoven Quartet. This started a cycle of four quartets,
each dedicated to its members. As might be expected, the mood
is a sombre one, and at times the dry presentation of some of
the opening thematic material seems to express the emptiness and
futility of loss. The sharpness of the contrasts come across like
physical blows with the Alexander Quartet, and there is a steely
edge to their sound in some sections which can be quite unsettling.
There is great beauty, but no comfort in the exquisite dying moments
of the conclusion.
Quartet No.12 saw Shostakovich toying with the possibilities
of using serial, 12-tone techniques in his composition. While
there are some moments in which the tonality and melodic shapes
become somewhat ambiguous, Shostakovich remained true to his own
personal idiom, and the 12
th Quartet is by no means
an atonal or avant-garde experiment. There are some quite complex
chromatic workings-out however, and this is one of those pieces
which can be harder to make convincing. The Alexander Quartet
have few problems, and take the
Allegro opening of the
elaborate second movement by the throat. This becomes an emphatic
trait in the rest of the movement, with some of the effects reminding
me of Shostakovich’s wilder moods, the mad crowd-like scenes in
the earlier symphonies 2 and 3.
With the
Quartet No.13 we reach what might be described
as one of the most extreme quartets in terms of structure if nothing
else. The work is in one continuous movement, taking 18:30 for
the Alexander Quartet, 19:10 for the Fitzwilliam. This single,
arching form is dark in mood, and while the Alexander players
don’t dig quite as deep as the Fitzwilliam Quartet, their impassioned
expression of the most febrile moments has quite enough power.
There is now a sense of grim purpose in Shostakovich’s writing,
an ageing and frustrated fist battering against the transience
of time – both for himself, and the 70 year old Vadim Borisovsky
to whom the work is dedicated. The reference to Bartók is well
made in the booklet notes, and the Alexander Quartet’s rattling
taps and sharp pizzicati have potent resonance.
The last of the ‘Beethoven Quartet’ quartets is
No.14,
whose bright opening shines like rays of sunshine after the gloom
of the 13
th. Dedicated to cellist Sergey Shirinsky,
there are several showcase passages for Sandy Wilson, who gets
his teeth firmly stuck into Shostakovich’s juicy lines. This is
not a cello concerto however, and the quiet emotions of the central
Adagio are initially painted with sober strokes in an
extended threnody from the first violin. The third movement also
has its minor tonalities, and the relationship between this and
some of the austerity in the later symphonies is clear.
Like the
Quartet No.13, Shostakovich’s final work in
this setting, the
String Quartet No.15 was written while
the composer was receiving treatment in hospital. Ill health and
the shadow of death had their unmistakeable effect on this last
quartet, which is composed in the form of six
Adagio
movements, one of which being a
Molto adagio Funeral
march. The second movement,
Serenade, is a remarkable
statement, with notes which seem to come at the listener like
arrows out of the dark. The Alexander players are not above giving
these darts a little vibrato here and there, which is other than
most renditions I have heard, and certainly different to the needles
which are driven under our skin by the Fitzwilliam Quartet. I
don’t find this particularly disquieting, and the Alexander Quartet’s
playing is excellent in this piece. Their overall impression is
however one of deep sadness, where the Fitzwilliams give us the
full tragic works: again, a change in emotional perspective which
is different, equally valid, and in many ways complementary.
There is more than one way to skin a cat, and when it comes to
alternative recordings of the Shostakovich quartets I have “had
’em” through the years. Numerous sets have gone by the wayside,
most of which having many positive qualities, but none speaking
to me in quite the way that the pioneering cycle by the Fitzwilliam
Quartet does. The Alexander Quartet doesn’t speak to me in the
same way either, and nor would I want them to. We’ve come a long
way since the 1970s, and I am open to all-comers in this repertoire,
but the strength of expression in the playing
has to
match that of the music, no matter how an ensemble views it or
makes its choices in terms of phrasing, balance, intonation and
the rest. I still wouldn’t want to be without the Fitzwilliam
Quartet’s cycle. This cries louder and is sometimes as painful
as stripping post-operative plaster from a badly shaved wound,
but not everyone will want their Shostakovich quite so raw and
excruciating. The Alexander Quartet pulls no punches, but their
recorded sound and general resonance tends to be warmer and less
grittily challenging. In a direct comparison you may consequently
find yourself less directly assaulted by the potency of the music,
but with the Alexander Quartet we are also in for the long haul,
and these are certainly recordings to which you will be more likely
to want to return and explore. Ideally I would also have liked
to have had the Emerson Quartet’s cycle for reference. I’ve had
a listen to the extracts available on YouTube, and have the impression
that the Emersons are more extrovert, with plenty of heart-on-sleeve
passion and vibrancy. Listeners who seek a no-compromise “wring
’em dry” approach may wish to explore this as an alternative to
the Alexander Quartet, though I am also informed that these are
live recordings and include applause. A downside of the Foghorn
Classics release is that sequence of novelty foghorns at the end
of the discs. This label needs to grow up and ditch that kind
of nonsense. I am assured that, thanks in part to my objections,
all subsequent FoghornClassics releases (of which there are
seven, to date) have been mastered without the hidden trademark
Foghorn tracks. They have not been removed from the original Shostakovich
masters. The initial production run is still not exhausted so
there are still approximately 600 sets to be sold before that
can be modified.
I for one am however happy finally to have found a new ‘studio’
cycle of the Shostakovich string quartets which is the equal of
the best in the current catalogue, and which both complements
and challenges all those old favourites. To mix up a few metaphors,
anyone seeking desert-island satisfaction should be able buy these
recordings, and draw up the gangplank for a long time to come.
Dominy Clements
