The Radio 3 Monday Lunchtime 
          Concerts series from the Wigmore Hall has 
          produced some memorable concerts in the 2003/4 
          season, but this one was surely the crowning 
          glory so far. No surprise that tickets were 
          hard to come by as the Beaux Arts Trio, no 
          less, gave aristocratic yet fresh accounts 
          of two chamber music gems.
        
        The current line-up of the 
          Beaux Arts is the venerable Menahem Pressler 
          (piano); Daniel Hope (violin) and Antonio 
          Meneses (cello). Hope is the most recent recruit, 
          having taken his place as a permanent member 
          in 2002. The combination of youthful enthusiasm 
          and fine experience is a powerful one indeed. 
          The very name of the ensemble is enough to 
          inspire veneration in all but the most hardened 
          music-lover.
        Beethoven’s Op. 11 of 1798, 
          which began the concert, was originally a 
          Trio for clarinet, cello and piano. Yet when 
          it was published it came with an alternative, 
          idiomatically written part for violin and 
          it was in this form (straightforward piano 
          trio) that it was played on this occasion.
        
        This is very youthful Beethoven. 
          Contrasts are deliberately larger than life, 
          and the Beaux Arts Trio made sure that the 
          verve of the opening played off the ensuing 
          melting lyricism perfectly. The juxtaposition 
          of the two set up a tension that ran throughout 
          the first movement, underpinning the delightful, 
          easy invention. Interplay of violin and cello 
          was miraculous (and how witty were Pressler’s 
          scales!). Only some tricky ornaments revealed 
          that he is not as agile as perhaps he used 
          to be. Yet how marvellous was his pedalling 
          in the Adagio (to pedal this well is the fruit 
          of long experience); and how intimate, also, 
          the violin and cello dialogues.
        
        The delightful, airy theme 
          that forms the material for the finale’s variations 
          (a comic trio from Joseph Weigl’s opera L’amor 
          marinaro, a hit in Vienna in 1797) was 
          given ‘the works’, taking in along the way 
          a disembodied, whispered ‘minore’; scampering 
          violin scales; a catchy dotted-rhythm variation 
          and a beautifully shaded coda. This was far, 
          far more than a mere warm-up.
        
        Dvorák’s Piano Trio 
          in E minor of 1890/1, the ‘Dumky’ was given 
          a performance it would surely be hard to better. 
          The single most memorable aspect of this sequence 
          of six dumky (plural of ‘dumka’) was the sense 
          of fantasy it projected. Just as Dvorák’s 
          imagination was in free-fall when he wrote 
          it, so the Beaux Arts Trio seemed to be caught 
          on the wing. The prototypical first movement 
          (Lento – maestoso - Allegro) set the scene 
          with a broad, sweeping gesture preceding a 
          jubilant dance. True, Pressler might not be 
          as nimble as perhaps he once was in the coda, 
          but the way he weighted his chords was a thing 
          of wonder. Cellist Antonio Meneses, too, seemed 
          to peak, especially in the more lamenting, 
          yearning phrases Dvorák gave him. The 
          opening of the third movement was positively 
          mesmeric, at first disembodied as Pressler’s 
          right hand gave out a melody in as rapt a 
          fashion as is imaginable. Contrasts within 
          the work were at times highlighted to great 
          effect, nowhere more than in the final movements 
          ‘Lento maestoso’ against a ‘Vivace’. There 
          was never a doubt that Dvorák’s imagination 
          in this work is magnificent. And there was 
          no doubting, either, that the Beaux Arts Trio 
          matched that inspiration in kind.
        
        
        Colin Clarke