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
The Takács contribution to the Britten centenary is able to look
the best performers in the face.
Britten discography & review index: String
quartets
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