Guild has now released three discs devoted to the chamber music 
                  of the Swiss composer and conductor Volkmar Andreae. This one 
                  has solo piano music, a violin sonata, a fine string trio, and 
                  an early string quartet. 
                  
                  The 1898 quartet owes a lingering debt to late Schubert and 
                  also to Dvorįk, and is very fluently crafted. There’s plenty 
                  of incident in the opening Allegro, the longest of the four 
                  movements, and a delightful kick to the rhythms in the ensuing 
                  scherzo. Andreae withdrew the work, and it’s a pity that people 
                  therefore never got to hear the rather lovely slow movement, 
                  or the exciting and vibrant finale with, admittedly, that dread 
                  cliché, the inevitable fugal passage. If this youthful work 
                  is only fitfully impressive, the string trio of 1917 operates 
                  at a higher and more consistent level of inspiration. It’s not 
                  especially contrapuntal, and shows no overt signs of being influenced 
                  by, say, Reger. Instead there are again hints of Dvorįk in the 
                  central Allegretto, in which the lighter and darker elements 
                  of the music are well distributed. Indeed his assured handling 
                  of the tricky string trio medium is never in doubt, nor too 
                  the increase in tension in the finale, where there is some intense, 
                  even anguished writing, before some sprightlier dance patterns 
                  lead us on to a resolving conclusion. 
                  
                  The violin sonata was written around the turn of the century. 
                  There are hints of Andreae’s early flirtation with impressionism, 
                  also perhaps Brahms. As is usual with this composer, his melodic 
                  gift finds a proper medium in the slow movement, themes from 
                  which reappear in the finale, optimistically restated, even 
                  though the actual writing here is less distinctive. The Six 
                  Piano Pieces (1911) bear Schumannesque titles and are nicely 
                  and concisely characterised; a march, a light-fingered dance 
                  (quite quirky actually), a strummed lament of rich warmth, a 
                  delightful Catalonian Serenade, and a touch of Liszt and Chopin 
                  for the finale. 
                  
                  The performances are very well scaled, unflamboyant and intelligent, 
                  and the recording is attractive too. There’s no denying an inherent 
                  unevenness in some of this music but at its best it’s engaging, 
                  warm-hearted and resourceful. 
                  
                  Jonathan Woolf