Tag: Classical

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Recording

Beethoven: Piano Trios

CD cover Rautio Piano Trio Beethoven trios vol. 2

Rautio Piano Trio
62:33
Resonus RES10337

The Rautio Piano Trio earned the highest praise from me for the first of what we can now safely assume will eventually be an extremely welcome complete set of the Beethoven Piano Trios. You can read the review of the last issue, which involved the first two trios of op 1 here. A particular joy of that disc was the success with which the Rautio Trio (Jane Gordon violin, Victoria Simonsen cello and Jan Rautio fortepiano) captured the sheer exuberance of the young Beethoven on their period instruments. Those include 17th-century string instruments whose splendid tonal qualities are enhanced by outstanding playing, for proof of which there is no need to go further than the exquisitely lovely opening of the Adagio of op. 11, perfectly shaped and played with gorgeous tone first by the cellist, then the violin counterpointed by the cello. The fortepiano is a copy of an 1805 Walter Viennese fortepiano built by Paul McNulty; as I noted in the earlier review, it boasts exceptional tonal quality across the range, with a silvery top and (when required) a surprisingly powerful bass. This raises another highly important aspect of these performances, which are throughout balanced to near perfection. To some degree, this is of course down to the performers – Rautio seems to have an instinctive feel for dropping out of the limelight when he needs to – but equally to the greater ease of finding the right balance when instruments appropriate to the period are employed.

Like its companions from op 1, the C-minor Trio is an ambitious four-movement work, the big-boned, muscly characteristics of its opening and closing movements apparent from the urgency of the first movement, with its bold opening, chunky sonorities and, particularly in the development, more than a hint of Sturm und Drang. But perhaps its most remarkable movement is the big Finale: Prestissimo, the energy and bravado of which are superbly conveyed by the Rautios. Throughout all three works, one notes the distinctive little hints of portamento and rubato that give the performances a distinctive character.

Op 11 dates from 1797 and is sometimes known as the ‘Gassenhauer’, a nickname referring to the popularity of the theme of the variations that form the last of its three movements. This was taken from a popular drama giocosa by Joseph Weigl, and was apparently so infectious that it was sung throughout the lanes (or “Gassen”) of Vienna. I can well believe it – the first time I heard the Rautio’s performance, it stuck in my head for days. It seems Beethoven had second thoughts about using such a low-brow ‘pop’ tune, but eventually decided he would use it. I’m glad he did, not least because it gave the Rautio Trio the opportunity to play the tune and its variations with such a sense of vitality and fun. Op 44 originates from 1792, but did not appear in its final published version until 1804. Based on a very simple tune presented in unison, Beethoven gradually works through a variation scheme to give each instrument prominence, the virtuosic demands of the writing increasing gradually. The Rautios, both individually and as a unit, grasp the many opportunities it offers but perhaps for me most memorably of all in the barcarolle-like variation 5 (I think!), where there is some wondrous sotto voce playing.

In sum, bravi tutti! – again. I await the ‘Archduke’ with impatience.

Brian Robins

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Recording

W A Mozart: Fantasy

CD cover Mozart Fantasy Florent Albrecht

Florent Albrecht
78:24
Trihort 585

Playing a Baumbach pianoforte of 1780, Florent Albrecht presents a programme of Mozart’s four fantasies for solo piano, bringing under the same umbrella three preludes, as well as a further “Mozart Fantasy” reconstructed by himself. There is an interesting record from 1785 of Mozart playing fantasies for his fellow Masons, and it is highly plausible that this exploratory and improvisatory music would have appealed particularly to this inner circle of deep-thinking connoisseurs. Albrecht’s accounts emphasise the spontaneous nature of this music, managing to make it sound as if he is discovering its secrets alongside his audience. He makes imaginative use of the different textures available on his chosen instrument, a remarkable survivor from a bygone age – it was the property of the Abbé of Vermont, tutor and confessor to Marie-Antoinette, and unlike these two people who are very likely to have played it, it survived the French Revolution to be restored to its original state in 2013 by Olivier Fadini. It produces a remarkably rich array of timbres, which Albrecht exploits to the full in these flamboyant accounts of some of Mozart’s most imaginative piano music. With many composers from the Baroque era onwards, we are painfully aware of the wealth of improvised music, which took many composers to the very limits of their creative talents, but which by definition often existed only in the moment. Fantasies such as these are treasures, preserved by random chance, and the main strength of these recordings is the way in which Albrecht expressively unfolds each piece, much as Mozart may have done in the rarefied setting of his Masonic Lodge.

D. James Ross

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Recording

A Bach & Abel Concert

CD cover A Bach and Abel concert

Catherine Zimmer Merlin square piano 1784
Music by K F Abel, J C & C P E Bach, Haydn, Lachnith, [Maria Hester] Park & Stanley
62:00
encelade ECL2401

The year is 1784 and in London the inventor John Joseph Merlin and the Gray brothers have come up with one of the more bizarre offshoots of the development of the piano – a square piano combined with an organ. There was a considerable taste for novelty at this time among the spoiled metropolitan musical public, with an account of one musician in fancy dress and on roller skates performing on the violin before destroying a valuable mirror, his instrument and himself! Remarkably the 1784 Merlin Organised Piano has survived, and it is on this fully restored novelty that Catherine Zimmer presents a recital of music from the time which might just have been played on it. In addition to the promised works by JC and CPE Bach and Abel, we have music by Haydn as well as more obscure repertoire by John Hook, Maria Hesther Park and Ludwig Wenzel Lachnith. Opinions will be divided as to whether a combined sound of piano and organ is even desirable, and some listeners may be distracted by the necessary clanking of the mechanism as Zimmer switches among the various available timbres. I have to say I found this inclusion of the ‘mechanics’ both honest and engaging, particularly when on one track they are joined by the chirping of sparrows, and I even found myself warming to the virtues of the ‘organised piano’. It is perhaps significant that prior to its extensive restoration in 2020, this remarkable instrument had been subjected to ongoing work, suggesting that it had never fallen entirely out of use. At any rate, it is fascinating finally to hear an instrument which hitherto had only been heard about, and particularly when it is in the hands of an expert pianist/organist such as Catherine Zimmer.

D. James Ross

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Recording

In Copisteria del Conte

CD cover In copisteria del conte

Musical delights from the Genoese palazzi
Jacopo Ristori cello and artistic director
136:00 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Snakewood Editions SCD202401

The arrival of this set took me back to the good old days of the “early music revival” when almost every consignment sent for review contained at least one recording that explored completely new repertoire. These days, with groups driven to devise original “takes” on well-known music that set them apart from the crowd and far less financial support from recording companies, it is quite unusual to come upon a project such as this that champions the obscurity of its material: music from late-18th-century Genoa.

Pretty much the only composer most people will have heard of on the playlist is Boccherini, two of whose sonatas (G. 571 & 579)  open the second disc. Elsewhere, there are violin duets by Barbella (not the one recorder players know!), “contests” for two cellos by Ferrari, two sonatas for psaltery, violin and continuo by Arnaldi, and two string quartets attributed to Pietro Nardini in the sources (copies in the hand of the “conte” of the discs’ title) but most likely composed by Franz Anton Hoffmeister.

Cellist Jacopo Ristori is joined by fellow cellists Viola de Hoog and Gied von Oorschot, violinists Antoinette Lobmann, Giorgos Samoilis and Sara de Vries (who also plays viola in the quartets), Jesse Solway on contrabbasso, Anna Pontz on psaltery and Earl Christy on lute/theorbo. For me, the most musically satisfying pieces were the string quartets; the prominence of the violist in the second was surprising but indicative of advances in that genre at the time. The two psaltery sonatas are interesting for what they are, but the two treble instruments spent too long doubling one another for the material to make any lasting impression. The contests between two cellists are – I imagine – more entertaining in real life than on a recording, with each player trying to outdo the other. Barbella’s violinistic skills are evident from his duets, but they are not in the same league as Leclair’s or even Pleyel’s better contributions to the repertoire. If this all sounds like I’m damning the recording with faint praise, that is not the impression I would like to give; Count Federico Taccoli’s contribution to the dissemination (and, in some cases, survival) of music heard in Genoa in the second half of the 18th century is invaluable. These performances reveal some of it in the best possible light. Ristori and his colleagues are to be complimented and thanked for their pioneering endeavour!

Brian Clark

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Recording

Haydn 2032, no. 16 – The Surprise

CD cover Haydn Antonini Surprise vol 16

Il Giardino Armonico, Kammerorchester Basel, Giovanni Antonini
84:47
Alpha Classics ALPHA 698

Volume 16 of Giovanni Antonini’s integral Haydn symphony series introduces for the first time works from his finest group, the so-called ‘Salomon’ symphonies composed for his two visits to London (1791-2 and 1794-5). Along with Symphony No 94 in G (‘Surprise’) and Symphony No 98 in B flat the CD includes Symphony No 90 in C, the first of three works commissioned by Count d’Ogny for the Paris-based Concert da la Loge Olympique. And as if that were not enough for a disc of extraordinary length we’re given a closing encore in the shape of the overture to Rossini’s La scala di seta. I’m not sure what the context is here, but it doesn’t matter; it is given such an exuberantly scintillating performance that as is often the case with encores it threatens to steal the show.

It doesn’t of course for the simple reason that we’re here considering some of Haydn’s greatest symphonies and I’m including the neglected No 90 in that category. The Loge Olympique orchestra was known for being one of the largest concert orchestras in Europe, with a complement of 17 violins, four violas, six cellos and four (!) double-basses plus the usual pairs of winds and brass noted in 1786, just two years before Symphony 90 was composed. It is therefore highly appropriate that for the first time in this series Giovanni Antonini has combined the two chamber orchestras with whom he is alternating for this series. That gives him forces that accord very closely with those of the Loge Olympique. To the best of my knowledge, no precise figures exist for the orchestral forces that played in Haydn’s concerts at London’s Hanover Square Gardens, but Antonini’s are also close to those employed by opera orchestras in the city at the time. This raises the interesting point as to whether or not the entire string section played in more lightly-scored passages with such a large body, bigger than we characteristically hear playing these works. Unless I’m mistaken Antonini does not, reducing them to achieve the light rhythmic delicacy in appropriate passages of, for example, the enchanting Andante of Symphony 90. This is incidentally a work that makes a fine fellow for the ‘Surprise’ Symphony (No.94), given that it also includes a joke to keep an audience on its toes. This is the false ending of the final Allegro assai – a full four-bar silence that suggests we have reached the end before the music resumes briefly and wittily in a new key that takes us back to the tonic only for the final coda.

Antonini’s performances have reached a point where they need little individual comment, given that their considerable assets have by now been frequently observed by me and others. These are in general terms of course ‘bigger’ pieces than the earlier symphonies with which the series has been mainly engaged, characterised and enhanced by the same muscular masculinity, even at times peremptory approach that nonetheless never precludes warmth, wit and affection. Tempi are invariably well judged, those of the Minuets of Symphonies 94 and 98 reminding us that Haydn’s markings – Allegro molto and Allegro respectively – are taking us ever closer to the minuet’s eventual replacement by the scherzo. The freedom of the writing for wind, which Haydn himself – perhaps with a touch of false modesty – felt had taken him long to fully attain, is underlined by some outstanding vignettes. Also admirable is the balance and clarity achieved by the conductor, making passages such as the wonderful contrapuntal development of No 98’s opening Allegro an especially enlightening moment.

In all this is a marvellous bargain of a disc and I’m especially grateful to Antonini for reminding me of what I’ve been missing myself by reprehensibly neglecting the towering Symphony No 90.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Un clavecin pour Marcel Proust

CD cover Olivier Baumont Un clavecin pour Marcel Proust

Olivier Baumont
46:00
Encelade ECL2204

The idea of a harpsichord for Marcel Proust may at first glance seem like a bit of a historical mismatch between an essentially Baroque instrument and a writer of the late 19th and early 20th century. But of course this is an author in search of times gone by, and harpsichords and harpsichordists make regular appearances in his writings. Olivier Baumont has cleverly sought out these allusions and constructed a programme of the music mentioned as well as pieces ‘in the old style’ by Proust’s friends and fellow enthusiasts for earlier centuries, Reynaldo Hahn and Louis Diémer. Playing appropriately three impressive 20th-century copies of 18th-century original harpsichords, Baumont explores the 19th-century revival of this Baroque repertoire witnessed by Proust and included in his novels. Grouping the music by Rameau, Bach, Scarlatti and Couperin interspersed by pastiches by Anthiome, Hahn and Ravel under the heading of the Proust characters the music is associated with, Baumont constructs a concert programme for an event which never in fact took place on an instrument (Proust’s clavecin) which never actually existed – a very proustian questioning of memory! He is joined by soprano Ingrid Perruche, violinist Pierre-Eric Nimylowycz, and fellow clavecinist Nicolas Mackowiak for what turns out to be a very engaging sequence of music. This CD is very much a flight of fancy of harpsichordist Olivier Baumont and for all it hangs on what in Scotland we would call ‘a bit of a shoogly peg’, his beautiful playing and the thought-provoking juxtaposition of pieces makes for a satisfying and involving experience.

D. James Ross

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Festival-conference

The Innsbruck Early Music Festival and Haydneum Festival, Eszterháza

Although principally undertaken on opera duty, brief successive visits to two European early music festivals also allowed time to take in a chamber music concert in both venues. While the Innsbruck Early Music Festival is well-established and familiar to early music enthusiasts, that at the palace of Eszterháza, Haydn’s principal place of employment for thirty years, is not. Despite a somewhat isolated location that caused Haydn to complain of feeling cut off from the world, I suspect that it being the home of the Haydneum, a centre for early music recently established on the model of the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, will soon result in it having a higher profile.

The first stop was Innsbruck, where the evening after a triumphant first performance of Graupner’s Dido, Königin von Carthago festival-goers were transported up to Ambras Castle, a Renaissance jewel situated above the city. It is there that the majority of the festival’s chamber concerts are given in the spectacular Spanish Hall, that on 26 August being devoted to an intriguing and well-designed programme featuring two composers that at one time or another in the early 18th century might have contributed to making Innsbruck a rival to London. Handel (represented by his Italian cantata Il duello amoroso) seemingly rejected the possibility of employment in Innsbruck, but Mannheim-born Jacob Greber (d. 1731) having failed spectacularly in London did not, becoming Kapellmeister in Innsbruck in 1707. On the evidence of the three cantatas presented, he was a competent if not especially inspired composer, here unkindly cast into the shadows by Handel’s infinitely superior work. In addition to the vocal works, the programme included chamber works featuring recorders by two other German immigrant composers working in London, J C Pepusch and Gottfried Finger.

The vocal performers were the soprano Silvia Frigato, and the French (despite her name) mezzo Mathilde Ortscheidt, a past prizewinner of Innsbruck’s prestigious Cesti Competition and a singer who recently much impressed me in Cimarosa’s L’Olimpiade at Versailles. The instrumental works and support for the singers were provided by members of the Akademie für Alte Musik, Berlin. Without being entirely sure of the reason, the concert came over as a rather flat. Was it perhaps a hang-over from the remarkable Dido of the previous day? Both singers sang well enough, although Frigato’s tone sounded at times shrill and thin. By contrast, Ortscheidt produced a rich tone and some impressive chest notes, but neither appeared sufficiently involved in communicating texts or producing interesting embellishments. Much the same might be said of the instrumental playing, which was as competent as would be expected from such an eminent ensemble but rarely arrested the listening ear.

What was missing was vividly illustrated five days later in the course of the concert given by the Capricornus Consort Basel in the magnificent and beautifully restored Apollo Room in the palace of Eszterháza. The instrumental works included the fine B-flat Concerto (no 2) from van Wassenaer’s set of Concerti Armonico and three works by F X Richter that provided a pertinent reminder of just how excellent a composer he is. The only vocal work in the programme was the sacred cantata Il pianto di Maria by G B Ferrandini, Venetian-born but long employed in Munich. At the conclusion of the text, a scribbled note of mine reads, ‘good on one level but there is another’ and indeed the singing of mezzo Olivia Vermeulen seemed curiously uninvolved for such a searing text, underscored as it is by painful chromaticism. Chromaticism emerged almost as the keyword of the programme, nearly all the music being inflected by it, sometimes heavily. This feature induced a strong emotional response in the shape of technically accomplished and fully committed playing from the Capricornus players. However, they also produced playing of delightful lightness and great delicacy in the second movement of Richter’s Trio Sonata in A minor, op 4/6 and some affecting cantabile playing from the muted strings in the second movement of the B-flat Sinfonia, VB 59. It was overall a concert that provided an immensely satisfying conclusion to my mini tour of festivals.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Mozart: Bastien & Bastienne | Pergolesi: La servante maîtresse

CD cover Mozart Bastien et Bastienne Pergolesi Jarry

Adèle Carlier, Marc Scoffoni, David Tricou, Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal, Gaéton Jarry
89:15 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS105

The pairing of these two pastoral operas in this latest release from the performance series at Versailles Palace is not just a stylistic decision – performances of a parody of Pergolesi’s intermezzo La Servante Maîtresse in Paris in 1752 established the important strand of Italian opera in France, inspiring Rousseau to write Les Amours de Bastien et Bastienne, taken up as a German libretto by the young Mozart. As a homage to this Parisian milieu, both operas are performed here in French. They rely on a lightness of touch in their musical settings. Mozart uses flutes, oboes and bassoon to enrich the orchestral colour, as well as a pair of horns to enhance the rustic atmosphere, and the subtle interaction of orchestra and voices, the hallmark of his later operatic masterpieces is already evident here. Lovely, neat playing from the period instruments of the Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal injects great charm and energy into this performance, while the three principals characterise their roles well beyond the two-dimensional. Neither of the plots even flirts with profundity, but from the pens of such masters as Pergolesi and Mozart we have beautifully crafted melodies, exquisitely scored, which are very well sung and played here. Listening to the Pergolesi, the less familiar work from my point of view, and a piece more often referenced than performed, it is easy to imagine the stir it caused at these Parisian performances in 1752. This frothy bucolic fare is the perfect foil to the often rather worthy French operas of the time, and it established an attractive alternative which would co-exist with the indigenous musical culture. What I had not noticed before hearing this fine performance in French is the extent to which this 1754 parody of Pergolesi’s original intermezzo (La serve padrona) is in turn influenced by French opera. In addition to presenting both works in fine, well-crafted performances, this version has done us a very useful service in juxtaposing them in performance.

D. James Ross

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DVD
DVD cover Mozart Don Giovanni Jarry

Robert Gleadow (bs), Arianna Vendittelli (sop), Florie Valiquette (sop), et al, Ballet, Choeur & Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal de Versailles, conducted by Gaétan Jarry
184:00
Versailles Spectacles CVS115 (DVD & BlueRay)

This video stems from performances of a new production of Don Giovanni given by the Opéra Royal in the ravishing 18th-century court theatre in the palace of Versailles in November 2023. Generously both a DVD and a Blu Ray disc are included in the package; I viewed the DVD. Having been present on the opening night, I’m disappointed that on my admittedly not-wonderful TV, the picture of the stage is considerably darker than it was in the theatre. Of course, much of Don Giovanni takes place at night or least evening so that is to be expected to some extent but this stage picture frequently lacks clarity. The set itself, unchanging but for backdrops that aid in identifying the action as interior or exterior, is a town square in roughly star shape, the buildings including a couple with galleries for such scenes as Giovanni serenading Elvira’s maid. In general, it all works well, though the Commendatore’s statue turning up on Elvira’s doorstep seems a little incongruous.

The delightful multi-hued and busily decorated costumes owe an obvious debt to the commedia dell’arte tradition and interestingly both the Don and Leporello wear near-identical clothing, maybe as a suggestion that the latter is merely a more plebeian copy of his master. The link with commedia dell’arte was also apparent in the direction by Marshall Pynkoski, whose stated intention had been to make the piece fun. And indeed much fun was elicited, notable for the sheer exuberance and dynamism of such numbers as Leporello’s ‘Catalogue’ aria (although would he have behaved toward Elvira with quite that degree of familiarity?) or the finale of Act 1, which also benefitted from the spirited choreography of Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg. Yet paradoxically the scenes that remain lodged in the mind are some of the more dramatic and serious moments. The supper scene, notoriously difficult to bring off convincingly, is outstandingly done, the swirling silvery mists around the magnificently authoritative statue of the Commendatore chilling in effect. Less commendable is the decision to allow the raucous laughter of the Don to have the final word. It contradicts the ultimate message of the opera, articulated in the words of the final ensemble: ‘This is the end that befalls evildoers’.

That the opening scene has a thrilling dramatic verve, can be not least attributed to the strongly projected Donna Anna of Florie Valiquette, who also responded to the recognition that Don Giovanni was her father’s killer with an accompagnato and succeeding aria ‘Or sai chi l’onore’ with real intensity and thrilling tone. In act 2 ‘Non mi dir’ and its preceding accompagnato bring another special moment, an oasis of stillness in the midst of manic activity. The Elvira of Arianna Vendittelli was also a performance of outstanding quality, culminating in a ‘Mi tradi’ that, with its preceding accompagnato brought another scena of interior and touching quality, a revelation of the vulnerability of a woman hopelessly in love.

The performance of Robert Gleadow as the object of that love, his first Don, occasions a more mixed reaction. Characterful and strongly and securely sung, Gleadow’s  Giovanni projects a predator of animal energy. It was much in keeping with the kind of Don most producers tend to encourage these days. Yet it is a creation that not only overlooks the fact that Don Giovanni is a nobleman, not a slob that puts his feet on the table when eating dinner but, equally importantly that Francesco Benucci, the singer for whom Mozart created the role, was renowned for the finesse and grace of his singing and acting. Interestingly, when Don Giovanni was repeated in Vienna (it was of course written for Prague), Benucci sang Leporello; it is easy to imagine Riccardo Novaro’s outstanding Leporello stepping into the Don’s shoes. As indeed also applies to Jean-Gabriel Saint Martin, whose richly rounded Masetto was a revelation, one of the best I have seen. A more general observation regarding the singing is the tasteful and appropriate decoration added. Not the least aspect of the generally favourable impression of the cast was the manner in which it responded to Pynkoski’s long experience as a director who seeks to work with gesture and historically informed theatre, much in evidence in the highly effective groupings of the ensemble numbers – the production of the great act 2 sextet was a special highlight in this respect.

It is sad to have to report that amidst this truly excellent performance a large fly lurked in the ointment. In his fine book on the birth of conducting, Peter Holman has convincingly argued that the piano never superseded the harpsichord as a continuo instrument, yet opera conductors continue to employ it. Yet rarely can the piano have been put to such damaging use as it is here, where trite teashop tinkling pervades not only recitatives but at times also the orchestral texture, most ludicrously in the Don’s canzonetta, ‘Deh, vieni’, where what is supposed to be his mandolin accompaniment enters into a forlorn duel with the fortepiano.

Notwithstanding this blot on the performance, this was a splendid achievement all round, thoroughly enjoyable and insightful. Although not always in full agreement with Pynkoski’s work, I do admire without reservation the rare integrity he brings to all he does. This Don Giovanni is no exception.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Beethoven: String Quartets, op. 18

CD cover Beethoven op 18 Narratio Quartet

Narratio Quartet
165:35 (3 CDs)
Challenge CC72969

Published less than five years apart, what a world of difference exists between the six opus 18 String Quartets of Beethoven and the similarly constituted opus 76 set of Haydn! While the latter are the supreme work of a man at the height of his powers, the man indeed responsible above all others for the creation of the form, opus 18 represent the entry into the field by a young man who had probably just reached 30 by the time he completed the set. And it had proved to be a far from an easy entry. We know because Beethoven himself admitted it – ‘Only now’, he wrote to a friend in 1801, the year of publication, ‘do I know how to write string quartets’. 

This feeling of exploration and questing with a form accepted as arguably the most difficult to master is also very much a part of these performances by the Amsterdam-based Narratio Quartet. Playing on period instruments they have spent some fifteen years re-examining and working on the quartets in the context of the expressive performing traditions of Beethoven’s own time. These include a more flexible approach to tempo and rhythm than the strict, metronomic time-keeping we generally encounter today. The use of rubato was once a valuable expressive tool and is often used in harness with dynamic and other expressive markings. You can hear an example at the point of arrival of the secondary subject of the opening Allegro con brio of the F-major Quartet (no. 1), where the brisk opening subsides not only into a decrescendo and piano marking but also here an unmarked slowing of tempo, all combining to tell us we’ve moved into fresh territory.  Less innovative is the restriction of vibrato to expressive use, a technique now employed by many instrumentalists and singers. Most radical of all is the use of portamento or glissando, the sliding of one note into another in imitation of the human voice. It is used for expressive purposes, but needs to be employed sparingly. Especially in slower music, it carries a risk of sentimentality if used excessively. Beethoven is reported to have liked it, particularly in his chamber music. The Narratios seem to me to have got it just right, with the technique used sparingly and always sensitively, with little impression of simply making a spectacular effect. You can hear a startling example right at the start of the first CD, in the opening of the D-major Quartet (no. 3), where Beethoven’s unexpectedly poetic opening seems to expect this kind of expression. Incidentally, the quartets are arranged in the order it was once thought they were composed: 3; 1; 2; 5; 4; 6. It is now disputed.  

All this attention to such detail would be to little effect were the performances less perceptive than they are. Other more usual expressive devices such as dynamics and hairpin markings are keenly observed and I could find no tempo with which to take exception. But more importantly, the Narratios have for me captured the youthful essence and spirit of the six quartets to as near ideal an extent as can be humanly expected. Perhaps above all, it is the manner in which the wit and humour are embraced, a characteristic so frequently missing by those that would have Beethoven elevated to some kind of spiritual status. There are countless examples dotted through these performances, but I’ll highlight one. One of the most striking movements of opus 18 is the finale of the B-flat Quartet (no. 6), the structure of which has led some commentators to think in terms of an anticipation of the designs of the late quartets. It opens with an adagio marked La Malinchonia, an intensely inward passage almost entirely marked pp, it is played here with a rapt, intense inwardness brought to a halt by a fortissimo chord that quickly segues into a bright, witty triple-time movement marked Allegretto quasi Allegro. It is Beethoven laughing at us: ‘Ah, fooled you there, didn’t I?’ Wit, good humour and the dance now pervade the movement until a climax, led to in the present performance by an ever-quicker tempo subsiding to a dozen bars of the Adagio interspersed with four bars of triple-time. The coda brings a final example of these two extremes. You will find nothing comparable in the quartets on Haydn and Mozart; it is music that announces a musical revolutionary to whom the Narratio Quartet respond with compelling insight.

The quartet’s name refers to the art of rhetoric, the projection of which is tellingly apparent in these marvellously communicative performances. The continuation of the Narratio’s cycle can be awaited with the keenest anticipation.

Brian Robins