As I write this review thoughts turn
to the Record of the Year. The reason
is the comprehensiveness of the enterprise,
the appearance of live and recorded
performances either never available
or seldom if ever re-released, the small
but pertinent snippets of interview
material interspersed throughout, the
characteristically fine notes by Harris
Goldsmith (surely one of the most articulate
and knowledgeable experts in the field)
and above and beyond these the quality
of the music making.
An in-depth survey
might prove repetitious, so august is
the playing, so a few indications of
the kind of thing you can expect might
be in order. The Mozart Dissonance
Quartet comes from a Menton Festival
performance of 1958; the quartet had
made some well-known London discs for
Walter Legge between 1946 and 1949,
including the Dissonance and
they shouldn’t be confused. We do have
the 1946 D minor K421 to remind us of
those sometimes stormy sessions. There’s
passing ambient noise live in 1958 but
a forward and lyrically flowing slow
movement, phrased with unselfconscious
purity of line. The finale is full of
verve and judicious weight distribution
and balance. There are two versions
of Schubert’s Death and the
Maiden, one a Concert Hall LP
of 1952 and the other from the same
festival that gave us the Dissonance
The live performance is if anything
even more intense and expressive than
the studio one, slower all round and
more warmly vibrated. The slow movement
unfolds with the most wonderful feeling
and eloquence. To finish the first disc
we have a 1950 live Haydn Op.74
No.1. There are a few passing bumps
in the recorded sound but no doubting
the classical credentials that the Hungarians
display here and in Mozart. Fluid, elegant
and stylish this is Haydn playing of
timeless generosity and perception.
There are two performances of the Op.64
No.5 quartet as well. One is from a
78 set made in 1946, the other from
a Californian live concert given five
years later. The only point of departure
between them is the speedier slow movement
in 1951; otherwise these are once more
virile and effortlessly sprung Haydn
performances.
The second disc gives
us more Schubert. Alongside the
commercial Death and the Maiden
there is a Menton Festival performance
of the late G major Quartet, and it
receives a traversal of towering control
in which architectural cogency is allied
to expressive means to optimum effect.
There’s precision and verve in the Scherzo,
with the viola and cello lines singing
out well; the few intonational blips
earlier hardly begin to efface music
making of this quality. Beethoven
occupies the greater part of the
third disc in the form of the third
Razumovsky and Op.131. The former
dates from 1961, the Menton Festival
once more, and is a successful, warm
reading, strong on motion and tempo
relationships, and with a well-judged
tempo for the Fugue. One appreciates
the individual and corporate sonorities
of the group even better in the C minor,
which was taped the same day. This was
the Székeley-Kuttner-Koromzay-Magyar
quartet line up and one can appreciate
the violist’s contribution here in particular
as much as the corporate power with
which the central slow movement is delineated.
The first Razumovsky can be found
on the fifth disc (Budapest, 1968) and
it displays that special quality of
refinement and strength that marks out
their playing of Beethoven – to my mind
more convincing than the Budapest Quartet’s
rather smoother and more non-committal
traversals. There’s absolutely nothing
flabby or routine about the 1968 performances
either – no sense that these are workaday
matters.
The Hungarians were
long associated with Kodály
so it’s especially valuable to have
this 1952 studio recording of his Second
String Quartet, another ex-Concert Hall
LP, and the earlier of the two recordings
they left behind of it (the other dates
from 1955). The original disc was rather
subfusc but what emerges is the sheer
communicative warmth of the ensemble
and their rhythmic drive in the Allegretto
of the multi-sectional second movement
(of two); one can hardly imagine this
being played better than it is – and
the strong and direct links from composer
to quartet make this compelling listening.
The Bartók
recordings shouldn’t be confused
with the 1962 DG cycle. These predate
those powerful statements by a year
and were taped once more at Menton in
July 1961. The Hungarians had already
recorded the Fifth and Sixth in London
in 1946 but these live performances
a decade and a half later are marvellous
in their bewitching and evocative colour.
Listen to the coil over the accompanying
pizzicato figures in the finale of the
Fifth for instance or Székely’s
luxurious tone in the March themes of
the Sixth, with its associated powerful
inner voicings. The Third Quartet is
on disc five and is one of the latest
tapings, from Budapest in 1968, though
there’s no great or noticeable improvement
in sound quality between locations.
If one listens to the second movement
one can note that however vigorous the
bowing, however powerful the attack,
there is no sense of over-trenchancy
or of any brittle tone intruding.
Brahms is here
in the shape of the A minor Quartet
Op.51 No.1. As with their Bartók
there’s no rough-hewn approach, nothing
sinewy; the bowing is of unanimity and
controlled in the finale and earlier,
in the slow movement, there’s a certain
aloof distance that will appeal to those
for whom Brahms can become over clogged.
I happen to admire this approach though
personally find other views more penetrating.
The Tchaikovsky derives from
another of their Concert Hall LPs of
the early 1950s. The sound is a touch
veiled but doesn’t dissipate the warmth
of the reading. True it’s not as warm
as the Oistrakh Quartet’s contemporaneous
recording – but then it isn’t quite
as primus inter pares as that
one. There’s quite enough rusticity
in the Scherzo to get things airborne
but not so much that it becomes vulgarised
(something of which this foursome are
never remotely guilty) – and the finale’s
delicious.
The Dvořák
American was recorded in the
same month as the Tchaikovsky and for
the same label but this is something
of a disappointment, one of the very
few here. It is vitiated by a strange
lethargy, an oddly static response,
in the opening movement and the Lento
becomes rather over-scrupulous, with
debatable phrasing. Not a collector’s
classic. Similarly the Debussy,
live in 1951, takes a very bright and
breezy approach indeed, not least in
the Andantino, which remains objectified
and dry-eyed. For all the implicit humour
enshrined in the performance it’s not
an especially compelling vision of the
work, though it does remain a singular
one.
After these rather
underwhelming performances – and no
one’s perfect – we are strongly back
to form with Glazunov’s light-hearted
Cinq Novellettes. The first recording
of any snippet of these was by the London
Quartet but here we have the full panoply
of the Hungarians from LP. The Orientale
has a delightfully rustic air and
there’s a touchingly phrased Interludium
in modo antico and a joyful All’Ungherese
to finish. Admirers of the composer
and also of the primarius of the quartet
will note that Music & Arts has
resurrected a very rare wartime set
of the Concerto given by Székeley
with the Hague Residence Orchestra conducted
by Willem van Otterloo. I’ve no idea
how many copies this sold in Holland
in 1942 but it can’t have been that
many. The copies used can be rather
bumpy but it’s worth preserving because
this is an unusually balletic and elegant
performance of the concerto. It abjures
the emotive red lining of a Heifetz
or a Milstein and promotes tremendous
sweetness of tone and a rather understated
gentleness. There are no great emotive
gestures to titillate the ear, instead
a placid and feminine lyricism. An unusual
view certainly - but a rare recording
and full marks for digging it out.
This was a commercial
Decca and there are other examples of
Székely’s few commercial discs.
There’s a good Lalo and a Porpora
sonata unusual enough in c.1937. It’s
a shame that the rest of his Deccas
weren’t collated to give us a complete
run. Still let’s end with the 1951 Schumann
Quartet in A minor, a winningly cohesive
view strong on mysterioso introductions
and powerfully argued fugal passages.
They are judiciously expressive with
Schumann, flooding the Adagio with colour
and deft tints, though never self-pitying
ones. There’s plenty of rhythmic drive
in the finale but also moments of chaste
reflection. An excellent performance
of a difficult work.
That’s it. One of my
Records of the Year wrapped up this
side of Christmas. You’ll find a mini
biography of the quartet and its various
personnel over the years and a great
deal else. The duplications here encourage
curiosity and contrast rather than confirming
routine. The sound quality varies but
is never less than acceptable. Terrific
photographs as well. I know quartet
records don’t sell well - but this one
deserves to.
Jonathan Woolf
Hungarian String Quartet – [1] Székely--Moskowsky-Koromzay-Palotai.
[2] Székely-Moszkowsky-Koromzay-Magyar.
[3] Székely-Moskowsky-Halleux-Palotai.
[4] Székely-Kuttner-Koromzay-Magyar. *
Public performances. Technical reconstruction
(2004) by Maggi Payne. Issued with the kind cooperation
of Prof. Gabriel Magyar and the Székely
Estate. 
