Josef Beneš (1795-1873)
String Quartet No 1 in G major, Op 28 (pub 1865)
String Quartet No 2 in F major, Op 30 (pub 1871)
Martinů Quartet
rec. 2021, Domovina Studio, Prague
SUPRAPHON SU4320-2 [56]
The handsomely produced booklet shows a portrait of the Bohemian composer Josef Beneš, painted in 1840 by the artist Eduard Ender. Elegantly dressed, bewhiskered, aquiline of nose he looks to the side, the epitome of the successful violinist and composer.
What is known about him principally derives from a single article in a German newspaper of 1848 that seems to mix solid facts with unreliable speculation but in essence he was a violin virtuoso who lived something of a peripatetic life joining court orchestras, travelling to Italy – where he apparently met Paganini – before eventually settling in Vienna where he attained the significant position of first concertmaster of the Hoftheater. Yet as a soloist his virtuosity seemed to desert him as early as the start of the 1840s, unusually young for a violinist even for those days.
As befitted a soloist-composer he wrote largely for himself. He composed a number of concertante quartets but fortunately, after he withdrew from concert performance, he did write two proper string quartets, which are his final works and are the pieces performed here. The First was published in 1865 and the second in 1871; he died two years later. They’re programmed in reverse order, for some reason.
Both quartets are in the established four-movement form. The First was dedicated to Ferdinand Laub, one of a number of great Czech string players responsible for developing the Russian violin school. It’s an easy-going and professional work and if that sounds like an underhand compliment it’s not supposed to be. Thematic material is generously distributed and there are some comic inflexions in the Scherzo which is cast in a much lighter vein. A moment of ecclesiastical piety at the start of the Poco adagio is soon followed by some sweet and attractive writing – not desperately deep – and there is just a hint of his old-school concertante writing in the finale: he just can’t resist a few good licks for the first violin.
Both quartets were published in Vienna and reflect a prevailing liking for graciousness over depth. The Second’s performance history doesn’t seem to have been recorded so there are no accounts of how and when it was played, unlike the First which we know was premičred in the context of a Slavic evening. No 2 is mellifluous and elegant revealing some attractively athletic writing. There’s a lively Scherzo and once again Beneš never evinces any sense of genuine ardour or melancholy in the slow movement. He seems too equable a type for all that, though he does show evidence of eloquent cantabile and a reserved sense of gravity. The lilting finale is predominantly light-hearted.
The Martinů Quartet plays with fine tonal qualities, and they’ve been recorded most sympathetically in the Domovina Studios. The ensemble sounds rich but not over-inflated, so kudos to producer Matouš Vlčinský and to the two recording maestri Milan Puklický and Karel Soukeník for obtaining such a lovely sound.
Vlasta Reittererová’s booklet notes, to which I am indebted for biographical details, have been finely translated into English by Hilda Hearne. The notes are in Czech, English, German and French.
Beneš could hardly have had a better premiere recording than this. His music is healthy, appealing and attractive, maybe showing some Mendelssohnian influences, but overall, happily fluent and aiming to please.
Jonathan Woolf
Published: November 1, 2022
