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Haydn, Rihm, Schumann:  Takács String Quartet, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London 20.1.2009  (CC)


The most important event of this concert was, surely, the UK premiere of Wolfgang Rihm’s Eleventh String Quartet. Rihm is a highly prolific composer, a pupil of Stockhausen (Darmstadt). His Eleventh Quartet was first commissioned in 1998 but the work was not actually completed until 2007. The quartet lasts around half an hour and is in one continuous movement (although there are slight gaps between major sections).

Geraldine Walther, the violist of the Takács, provided a booklet note for this occasion, but it was not really useful, being over-descriptive of what happens on a minute-to-minute level without giving any real overview of the piece – without giving any sense of the shape.

The most striking aspect of this piece is its frequent sheer beauty, something very evident at the work’s opening. Here, from a starting point of sonic warmth, harmonies become progressively more Expressionist but not without losing that vital quality of attractiveness. Rihm presents extremes well, for this beauty balanced its polar opposite, angst. The cellist, András Fejér, made his solo lines speak eloquently, while the ensemble as a whole ensured that the forcefully articulated, chopped chords made their full mark. I think I could hear Rihm making reference to the opening of Berg’s Op. 3 String Quartet at one point, as the procedure of opening-out, “wedge” shapes is common to both (only Rihm adds a high, static violin to oversee matters). There is no doubt, however, that this is a tremendous work which I am sure will reward continued study. One can only dream of a Takács recording …

Because of the extended gestation of the present work, a recording of Rihm’s Twelfth Quartet of 2000/01 was issued before the Eleventh was finished (by the Minguet Quartet on Col Legno 20227). Those wishing to explore the more visceral, large-scale Rihm are directed to an excellent, superbly recorded and performed Hänssler Classic disc of Dis-Kontur (1974), Sub-Kontur (1974/5) and Lichtzwang¾Musik für Violine und Orchester (1975/6, with soloist János Négyesy, a piece which also includes passages of sublime lyricism). The orchestra is the SWR Symphony Orchestra, Baden-Baden und Freiburg; conductors are Sylvain Cambreling and Ernest Bour.

The Haydn quartet that opened the concert (the “Emperor”, Op. 76/3) was perhaps not of the same standard. Edward Dusinberre, the first violin, sounded a little harsh-toned in general, and could certainly have been sweeter in the instrument’s higher register. Nevertheless, this was an eminently civilised performance. The drone-bass effect in the first movement was highly enjoyable, effectively conjuring up a brief window of rusticity. The slow movement (Poco adagio, cantabile) was exquisitely managed – here, the “Emperor Hymn” (originally written for the birthday of Franz I, Emperor of Austria) passed between the instruments effortlessly. The viola variation was tissue-delicate.

Finally, Schumann’s String Quartet in A minor, op. 41/1. I remain to this day amazed at the (relative) neglect of Schumann’s quartets on concert programmes. The Zehetmair’s ECM recording of Nos. 1 and 3 did the works a great favour, of course, but there is space for still more (again, and this time possibly a little more realistically, are the Takács preparing a recording?). The Takács seemed to be very close to the spirit of the Op. 41/1, managing the mournful counterpoint of the first movement introduction (Andante espressivo) perfectly, rendering a marvellously warm, homogenous sound (the sharpness of the Haydn firmly in the past) before delivering a Handelian grandeur to Schumann’s dotted rhythms, all in contrast to the easy grace of the main Allegro. Not that the Takács Quartet underplayed the drama. The galloping Scherzo (placed second) led to the Adagio. Here, Schumann threatened to directly imitate late Beethoven at one point, just side-stepping at the last moment to re-internalise the music’s direction to his own. Yet the Elysian tranquility of late Beethoven was there for all to hear; it seemed only right, therefore, that the verve of the Presto finale was initially tempered by the minor mode shadow. There was a particularly memorable plateau of calm amidst all the action that seemed to go straight to the heart of the composer’s ethos.

A splendid concert, then, elevated to an event of real importance by the inclusion of the Rihm.

Colin Clarke


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