Camille Saint-Saëns’ string quartets are not the chirpy, cheery,
tune-laden gems we would expect from the composer. They are
not as instantly attractive and romantic as the concertos, nor
as easily accessible a combination of formal simplicity and
autumnal sorrow as the late woodwind sonatas (available on a
superb recent Naxos
disc). If anything by Saint-Saëns can be honestly called
challenging, it is these two string quartets. But the rewards
are well worth your listening time.
The first quartet, in E minor, opens with a melancholy tune
which is spun out of a single high E on the first violin, slowly
repeated; all of this is done with mutes. The mutes stay on
for quite a bit of the allegro proper, though the secondary
material offers more vigor and contrapuntal detail. There is
a really compelling drama in this first movement, but until
the dramatic finish it is often understated and repeated listens
really do help fully size up the importance of Saint-Saëns’
thinking here. The scherzo has a short, good tune for a hook,
and some formidable licks by violin and viola; it is also capable
of a near-Brahmsian sternness, and the trio is a fugue. The
slow movement provides a major-key respite, but it doesn’t go
in for easy sentimentality either, and the finale doesn’t let
up. This is a dark, deeply introspective piece which should
surprise anybody who thinks Saint-Saëns is a lightweight; the
quartet, violinist Ralph Evans has said in an interview, will
“change minds in a hurry.” Indeed.
The second string quartet, in G, is cheerier but not much closer
to the stereotype we have of Saint-Saëns. It sounds more Russian
than French, especially the leaping tune which begins the first
movement and the somber hymn-like tune which appears in the
adagio; speaking of which, the molto adagio is more overtly
pretty here than in the first quartet, and spiked with a faster
central section, the transition out of which (and through to
the end of the movement) is a very fine piece of lyrical writing.
The finale provides a sober but reassuring finish to the work,
founded on a rather exotic tune in fifths.
The Fine Arts Quartet are up to their usual impressive standards:
this is an ensemble with a rich, velvety, unabashedly romantic
sound, and often seems incapable of being anything other than
achingly beautiful. In the last two minutes of the Second Quartet’s
adagio they are breathtaking. I’d listen to them play nearly
anything from this time period, and they validate that trust
here. The recorded sound (intriguingly, the sessions were in
a monastery library) is intimate, warm, and ideally suited to
the quartet’s unique style; the notes are by the ubiquitous
Keith Anderson, and the look at an unexplored side of Saint-Saëns,
by a quartet of this caliber, is not to be missed.
Finally it seems appropriate to note that Wolfgang Laufer, the
superb cellist who was a member of the Fine Arts Quartet since
1979, died on 8 June this year, soon after the release of this
disc and the recording of two more Naxos albums (Schumann and
Kreisler). He was one of three Fine Arts players — along with
the two violinists Ralph Evans and Efim Boico — who had been
in the quartet together for over thirty years. His, then, will
be a hard chair to replace. Let us hope that the Fine Arts Quartet’s
unmistakable sound will live on.
Brian Reinhart
Fine Arts Quartet 
