Wartime provides something
of a link for this programme the only
weaknesses of which are its brevity
and an uninvolving Suk Meditation.
Martinů’s
quartet is the fifth of seven. Hoarse
and rasping with protest at one moment
it then puts forth deep-breathed sighs
of nostalgia. It was, after all, written
in Paris at a time when return to the
Czech homeland of the 48 year old composer
had become impossible. The desperation
this induced was accentuated by that
fact his 1938 holiday was the last occasion
on which he set foot in his home country.
Not only that, his refuge in the artistic
ferment of Paris was becoming insecure
and two years later he left for the
USA. Much the same desperation can be
heard in an iconic work of the
same year, the Concerto for double string
orchestra, piano and timpani. This is
Martinů casting off the neo-classically
arid game-play of so much of his Paris
legacy. He reaches towards the symphonic
commentary of tragedy, scorn, joy and
heroism. The Kaprálová
Quartet imbue their reading with the
sort of drive and corrosive violence
normally associated with Shostakovich.
The successor to this quartet was to
be written in a New World and in a new
phase in the composer’s life divided
from the Paris years by a world war.
Speed is not everything
but they are faster at 26:32 than the
Panocha [27:09] on Supraphon but not
quite as fast as the Stamitz [26:04]
on Brilliant Classics - a 5 CD box with
all seven Martinů quartets and
the pairs of quartets by Janáček
and Smetana.
This is followed by
Kaprálová’s deeply affecting
and astonishingly moving quartet. Its
emotional anchor is the long central
lento which speaks directly and in hushed
accents. It radiates enchantment in
a Tippett-like web of cantilena.
The introspection is not cast off completely
in the finale. It is as if the beauty
of the lento compels the pilgrim to
turn from activity back to the land
of lost content and become lost in the
vision. There is a hint of Rózsa’s
Middle-European accent about this. I
wonder if the music critic Christopher
Palmer ever heard this work. It’s my
guess he would have been completely
captivated and would have become one
of Kaprálová’s most persuasive
and enthusiastic advocates. I would
also add that the Kaprálová’s
performance out-points
the Janáček Quartet on a valuable
all-Kaprálová CD (Studio Matouš MK 0049-2
011). The work registered favourably
but in a rather generalised way with
the Janáček. In the present case
it leaves the listener in no doubt that
this is a special piece of music.
You can and should read more about Kaprálová
at:-
http://www.kapralova.org/
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2004/Nov04/Kapralova.htm
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2003/Oct03/Kapralova_portrait.htm
The quartet’s way with
the Suk while wonderfully textured and
presented with clarity is far too dry-eyed.
Given the Kaprálová’s luminously touching
ways with the Martinů and Kaprálová
works their interpretative decision
here must be deliberate but seems to
me to miss the message. This
is music that needs to be dwelt on and
parallels with future works, such as
Barber’s Adagio to which it is a precursor,
relished.
The sound is vital,
gripping and relentlessly present.
And
those links? Kaprálová was a pupil of
Martinů for three years. Their
relationship became one of deep affection;
they may well have been lovers. Martinů
uses the melody from Kaprálová’s song
Farewell Handkerchief
in the adagio of the Fifth Quartet.
Both composers wrote A Love Carol
at about the same time. By 1940
their relationship was snuffed out:
Kaprálová was dead of TB and Martinů
was on his way to America.
Rob Barnett
complete
Arcodiva Catalogue
Kaprálová Quartet (Rita Čerpučenko,
Simona Hurníková, Světlana Jahodová, Margit
Klepáčová) 
for
details
