Here is an interesting
enterprise bordering on the bizarre:
a famous violinist commissioning a full
string orchestra arrangement of a string
quartet that he has played many times
in its original version. Maybe it is
not so surprising when you know that
the orchestra with which Gidon Kremer
wanted to play the arrangement is his
own eponymous Kremerata Baltica -
formed in 1997. In the booklet he
gives two reasons for the commission:
first, to give his young players, selected
from the Baltic States (Kremer is Latvian-born),
a chance to "research the great
masterpieces of chamber music",
and second, to "illuminate the
works I already know on a grander scale".
Only the second reason is relevant to
the listener and is the main, if not
the only criterion on which to judge
the project.
Why Schubert’s G
major Quartet? Here is a supreme
masterpiece of chamber music that has
never been played anything like as much
as the earlier D minor "Death
and the Maiden" and A minor
"Rosamunde" quartets.
Yet there are good reasons to give it
the grand treatment for this is a big
work. In the two years since Schubert
wrote the A minor Quartet he
had come a long way in his handling
of sonata form, consciously adapting
his style to Beethovenian methods. For
example, in the A minor he plays
to his strengths, opening with
a long melody which, come the development
section, he submits to little more than
variation technique. In the G Major
he starts with a dramatic introduction
followed by a first subject characterised
by a short rhythmic pattern. The same
pattern is integrated into the second
subject tune which is then extensively
developed before we even get to the
development section. The movement thus
gains a breadth that derives from a
sense of gradually expanding, powerful
narrative underpinned by a repeating
rhythmic cell à la Beethoven.
The expansion is not
only linear. Schubert also expands vertically
by using more double-stopping (instruments
playing chords by using more than one
string) than in the earlier quartets.
All this can lead to a temptation to
describe the work as "symphonic",
thus suggesting its suitability for
orchestral treatment. Nevertheless,
as I set out to play the disc, there
was hovering around in my head the negative
question, "What’s the point?"
I got a shock straightaway.
The first big chord (bar 3) echoed around
as if in a large, empty church. I checked
and this indeed appears to be the case
– St Nikolaus in Lockenhaus. I never
got used to the cavernous acoustic.
The playing, however, partly offsets
it by eschewing a fruity, vibrato approach
and adopting a clean and lean style
that is delivered with impeccable intonation.
Kremer, leading from the front desk,
has a clear idea of what he wants and
his players deliver his interpretative
mannerisms with exceptional, well-rehearsed
ensemble. Not everyone will feel comfortable
with the mannerisms though. There is,
for example, some fiercely accented
playing, but my biggest objection relates
to tempo. Come the second tune of the
first movement, Kremer slows down by
a radical 15 to 20 %. He then winds
the tempo back up as the tune is developed;
this, in isolation, is exciting. But,
in my opinion, such loss of momentum
in the first place wrecks the movement’s
sense of inexorable, organic growth.
I suppose Kremer could argue that in
Schubert’s day players might have been
expected to slow for a new, lyrical
tune and therefore it was not necessary
to mark the score. I cannot believe
that to be the case here. We may never
know, but there is some circumstantial
evidence to support my argument. In
the very few works for which Schubert
provided metronome markings, he does
not give a fresh mark when it comes
to sections equivalent to a first subject/second
subject transition.
There is some beautiful,
beguiling playing in the slow movement
but when it comes to the alarming passage
where Schubert appears to grind two
different keys together, the homogeneous
nature of the string orchestra sound
somehow takes the edge off the shock
that a quartet can so often provide.
The last movement is superbly executed,
played with a Mendelssohnian, scherzo-like
delicacy. But is that what the music
needs? To me, Schubert has written an
alarmingly jagged movement with its
incessant rhythm and major/minor harmonic
lurching.
As for the orchestration,
there is published in the booklet a
fascinating exchange between the arranger,
Victor Kissine, and Kremer over a number
of technical issues. The correspondence
reveals the philosophy behind Kissine’s
overall approach: "my chosen idea
(tutti >solos)". This means
that he must have had in his head a
concerto-like conception of the piece
that some may think a perverse approach
to the arrangement of this quartet.
The result is that some of the main
tunes are taken by soloists, relegating
the rest of the parts to a subordinated,
accompanying role. Gustav Mahler made
an arrangement of the Death and the
Maiden quartet, and although I do
not have a recording to hand, as far
as I recall he does not give any parts
to soloists so the result sounds far
more like a work that was written for
string orchestra.
It is clear that a
great deal of effort went into the realisation
of this project. So I did the decent
thing and listened to it three times
– some passages more – and started to
get used to it, delighting in some aspects,
usually in connection with the playing.
But the question, "what’s the point?"
remained, although I dare say that for
some, Kremer’s intention may be realised:
the "illumination" of a masterpiece
already known. For me, the fact that
the music stood up to some wayward arranging
and interpretation proved what a robust
work of art is Schubert’s last, great
quartet.
John Leeman
Solo quartet: Gidon Kremer, violin; Andrejs Gojikovs,
Violin; Daniil Grishin, viola; Kristine Blaumane,
cello 
