Seeing the words
“First Recordings” is always an exciting event. But seeing
them emblazoned on this recording of the second and third
quartets of Ropartz took me aback. Why has this composer been
so badly served by record companies? I dug out my copy of
the first volume of the World’s Encyclopaedia of Recorded
Music, and emerged duly chastened. No Ropartz seems to have
been recorded at all before about 1953. Perhaps a little something
before his death in 1955, but not much.
Neglect is not
a word that can be levelled at Timpani, a courageous and intelligent
company, a number of whose discs I’ve reviewed before. They
pitch in with a complete edition of the six quartets of which
this is the first to be issued. And what a fine and invigorating
release it is.
The quartets are
presented out of chronological order, with the Third of 1925
first up. It may be purely coincidental that there’s a rhythmic
pattern vaguely reminiscent of the opening of Beethoven’s
Ninth but what’s not in dispute is the songful lyricism of
the writing. Ropartz’s themes may be short but they’re pregnant
with thematic incident. Listen to the urgent and energetic
– and just a touch clotted – conclusion to the first movement.
Or to the way that the ensuing fast movement picks up the
generated dynamism and sweeps us on; a perfect example of
how rhythm can pull across movements. The slow folk-like melody
that forms the B section of this scherzo is delightful. As
much is true of the dreamlike slow movement. It has an ethereal
quality, refined but never aloof, genuinely mysterious but
profoundly human. The finale is light-hearted and full of
playful élan; very French and clean-limbed.
The earlier work
dates from 1911-12. It’s dedicated to Dukas, whose letter
is reprinted in the booklet and it repays study for his acuity
in recognising its salient strengths. There’s a Debussian
inheritance here no doubt, most evident in the powerfully
concentrated slow introduction. There are recurrent fugal
forays as well but ones that never becoming a chore to listen
to. But as with the later work, striking energy and drive
are motifs that mark out the quartet. The slow movement is
lyric but not effusive, warm but not cloying; reflective calm
is the key. And what a delight is that finale – the insouciant
Monsieur Hulot swing of the rhythm, the viola-rich song and
violin skelter of the writing. And how unexpected – and dramatically
successful – is the slowing up for the reflective and calm
moments before the conclusion.
Both quartets
are attractively recorded and played with flair and commitment
by the Quatuor Stanislas. They follow in the august footsteps
of the Capet and Calvet in this music– and acquit themselves
well.
The Fourth, Fifth
and Sixth quartets are due out in November 2006 and I can’t
wait.
Jonathan
Woolf
see also
Review
by Rob Barnett
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