Boris Tchaikovsky’s six string quartets were written over a period
of nearly twenty-five years. They signpost his prolific composing
career as do his four symphonies. Unlike the symphonies, however,
they reflect little of his stylistic progress. In fact they display
a deeper stylistic coherence and present a much more integrated
body of works although each has its own identity.
The String
Quartet No.1, completed in 1954, may still be regarded
as a youthful work although preceded by the not inconsiderable
achievement of the First Symphony. The quartet is laid out in
the fairly traditional three movements: two lively outer movements
framing a central meditation. The first opens in a bright optimistic
mood contrasting with a somewhat lighter theme and unfolding
in the lively interplay of two themes. The second is a beautiful
meditation. The concluding Allegretto is in a similar mood to
the first movement though with more restraint. It alternates
moods in a seamless way, also allowing for some sharper accents
and brings the work to its slightly ironic and understated close.
One of the most remarkable characteristics of this fairly early
work is its stylistic unity and tightly knit argument. Shostakovich
and Prokofiev may be lurking round the corner, but the composer
already succeeds in imprinting his own personality, even at
such an early stage of his compositional life.
The String
Quartet No.2, composed seven years later, is at once
a more mature and more personal work. Its four movements “represent
different facets of one image”: Natalia Pavolova in her insert
notes. The rather heavy-treading, ominous opening Moderato is
followed by a Scherzo, a ghostly, somewhat surreal march punctuated
by sharper episodes. The ensuing slow movement, however, does
not provide any release of tension. The many solo episodes that
make up most of the music in this movement are all like “unanswered
questions”. The finale opens with a unison theme but the music
– for all its energy and drive – does not bring any clear resolution.
Instead, the music simply withdraws with brief allusions to
the theme of the first movement punctuated by pizzicatos from
the second movement.
The String
Quartet No.3 in six movements - all of them slow - played
without a break is based on a 1964 film score: “While the Front
is Defensive”. The first movement opens with a “frozen” spiralling
tune over dry disembodied pizzicatos building to short-lived
climactic outbursts. The second movement opens with a recitative-like
gesture on the cello interrupted by interjections from the other
instruments and proceeds with another recitative on the viola.
The next movement consists mostly of a subdued, menacing unison
with some exclamation marks, the whole suggesting some barren,
inhospitable landscape. The fourth movement, the shortest of
all and often somewhat louder than any of the preceding ones,
is not the expected Scherzo. It ends abruptly and leads into
the fifth movement in which the tonal ambiguity prevailing in
the earlier ones seems to be resolved, though not quite; for,
in the final movement, the music again unfolds in complete ambiguity
recalling elements from the preceding movements in a summing
up that still fails to achieve a clear resolution. In many respects,
this rather enigmatic work seems to be one of Tchaikovsky’s
most personal achievements. The temptation to compare Tchaikovsky’s
Third String Quartet with Shostakovich’s similarly enigmatic
Fifteenth String Quartet - also in six slow movements - is strong
and, to some, hard to resist. Some commentators, such as Sofia
Khentova quoted in the insert notes, wrote that Tchaikovsky
showed Shostakovich his Third String Quartet - which he surely
did - and that Shostakovich then decided that he should write
a similar work. Tchaikovsky, however, tells a somewhat different
story reporting that Shostakovich liked the Third String Quartet
remarking that “all is quiet, not a single loud sound”, which
is far from the truth since the music of the Third String Quartet
is not without contrasts or louder episodes, even if these are,
quite often, short-lived. Moreover, the music never displays
the almost suicidal despondency that one might experience while
listening to Shostakovich’s final string quartet – a despondency
that clearly reflects intimations of mortality.
Tchaikovsky’s last
three quartets were composed at regular intervals between 1972
and 1976. Again, some commentators, including Viktor Petrovich
Bobrovsky whose letter to Tchaikovsky is generously quoted in
the insert notes, considered them a triptych, which may be justified
by the comparative brevity of each quartet as well as by the
character of each. A detailed analysis of the three works might
also confirm this impression, but I am not technically equipped
to carry-out such an analysis. The String Quartet No.4
is in three movements, though not along any traditional pattern.
In fact a Moderato is followed by two basically slow Andantes.
The first movement opens with a nervous, hammered-out ostinato
mostly played in unison. A long-winding arching tune attempts
to break through, fails to do so after several attempts and
nearly succeeds at the end. The second movement opens with a
solo on the first violin, repeated by the second violin and
then by the viola. A long aspiring, almost Beethoven-like tune
emerges - apparently unrelated to the opening theme - to be
later confronted by the main idea from the first movement. The
finale opens with another cello recitative commented upon by
the other instruments. Varied reminiscences of material from
the preceding movements creep into the picture with a somewhat
surreal result. The recitative from the second movement, eventually
combined with the first movement’s main idea, has the last word
and the music ends on a quiet chord. Formally the Fourth Quartet
may be the most complex of the six. Both String Quartet
No.5 and String Quartet No.6 are in one
single movement. Both are fairly concise – each playing for
a quarter of an hour. The Fifth is melody-dominated in a simple,
unaffected way and, as such, strongly contrasts with the inner
turmoil and the formal complexity of the Fourth. As such, one
might regard it as the slow movement of the triptych. The final
string quartet opens in optimistic high spirits that alternate
with slower, richly melodic episodes. The mood of elation prevails
until the exalted hymn-like coda is reached. This is clearly
the Finale of the triptych. Although there is much to gain from
having these three string quartets played together and in chronological
order, each of them is perfectly viable on its own right. Even
so, there is much here to substantiate the theory of a triptych
as put forth by Bobrovsky.
Boris Tchaikovsky’s
music is never ground-breaking but always manages to be strongly
personal in keeping possible influences, such as that of his
teacher and friend Shostakovich, at bay. It also avoids any
facile Neo-classicism. Neither is there any attempt at any all-too-comfortable
Socialist Realism, which would anyway be pointless in chamber
music. Tchaikovsky’s six quartets undoubtedly tell us much about
their composer in allowing for some of his more intimate thoughts
and concerns to be given strong expression, albeit with restraint
and without the sort of histrionics sometimes heard in Shostakovich’s
music.
I am in no doubt
about it that Boris Tchaikovsky’s six string quartets – in much
the same way but with different stylistic means as those by
Jan Carlstedt – represent a far from negligible body of works.
Although less radical than Bartók’s quartets, should definitely
not be ignored.
The four players
performing here do not seem to form a permanent string quartet
but they play wonderfully throughout. They make the most of
Tchaikovsky’s honest and sincere music.
In short, this is
a splendid release and one I have long awaited; it was well
worth the wait. This set should appeal to the growing number
of Tchaikovsky’s admirers but also to all those willing to explore
some hitherto neglected by-ways of the 20th century
string quartet.
Hubert Culot
