The Edinburgh Quartet in Concert
Institut Français d’Écosse, Edinburgh - 22/10/22
On the evening of 22nd October, my first ever visit to the Salle Émilienne Moreau-Evrard at the Institut Français d’Écosse on George IV Bridge in Edinburgh revealed a perfect performing space for the enjoyment of intimate chamber music recitals, with tiered seating, a high ceiling and marvellously warm acoustic. This further honed an appetite already whetted by the advertised Haydn/Kodály/Ravel programme and the prospect of what would be only my second opportunity to hear the Edinburgh Quartet live, after a gap of over 30 years. Back then, the gifted Miles Baster was the leader of the quartet and the programme, delivered in the smaller of two examinations halls of the International School of Choueifat in Abu Dhabi, where I was Head of Science, included the Debussy. I recall enjoying a long chat with the cellist Mark Bailey about chamber music in general, the Debussy, the Ravel and the 15 Shostakovich quartets in particular. Mark is still the cellist of the Edinburgh Quartet.
No printed programmes were available. The programme items were introduced by the leader, who made reference to being Belgian (despite a French accent) and this leads me to conclude that information on the quartet’s website and Facebook page is not up-to-date with respect to the names of the other members of the quartet, so I will refer to them only as the respective instrumental part.
Haydn’s Op.20 No.5 in F-minor is the darkest of the set but nevertheless shares with the other five the newfound partial ‘democratisation’ of scoring, where the first violin is still the prime mover of melody but the other parts, especially the cello, have a distinct voice and character and are no longer merely accompanists but participants in a conversation. This also seems an appropriate and happy metaphor for the playing of this group, where the individual voices have a characterful presence and clarity, yet the ensemble sound is perfectly balanced and integrated, while the phrasing is mutually responsive and projects a sense of joy in music-making. This was clear right from the beginning of the Moderato, with lovely cantabile playing from the first violin and far-from-passive commentary from the other voices and, indeed, they seem to drive the adventurous explorations of key changes in the coda. The undanceable irregular and equally dark minuet gives way to a Trio in the major and was equally characterfully played. The Adagio, a lilting major-key Siciliana in 6/8, does not seem slow and was delicious, with imaginative variations in the ornamentation of the melodic line with each return of the theme. The finale, a conspiratorial double fugue played sotto voce until a forte grunt from the cello launches its emphatic coda, restores the F-minor gravitas and concluded an engaging and compelling reading of this relatively rare Haydn masterwork.
Kodály’s Second Quartet is purportedly a two-movement work, though the second movement has two quite distinct sections. The Allegro, after a song-like rhapsodic searching introduction, settles on an episodic structure with stylised Hungarian folk melodies. The playing was agile, virtuosic and characterful and reminded me of the old Takács Quartet (who coincidentally have also retained the same cellist through all “reincarnations”). The second movement opens Andante with rich piano chording supporting a rhapsodic recitative line, first on first violin, then on cello, giving way to a con moto meditative interlude where dancelike themes are examined but rejected. Then the second violin and viola abandon the discussion and set off defining the rhythm of an episodic Hungarian folkdance, Allegro giocoso, which romps to the gleeful conclusion. This was quite superb and I (with no relevant qualification, but also without qualification) pronounce the Edinburgh Quartet to be honorary Hungarians.
And, drunk on imagined power, honorary Frenchmen? Well, yes. First, an admission. I carry in my head personal ‘ideal’ performances and interpretations of major works. As a reviewer, it can be a burden to suppress these and listen with unbiased (and open) ear. For Ravel’s F-major masterpiece, my ideal performance is/was currently informed by that of Quatuor Ébène. That has now been challenged. This is a work that oscillates between tonality and modality, is melodically and harmonically adventurous and demands not only maximal technical proficiency but also interpretative skill. To work at all, it must command flawless intonation, rhythmic exactitude concealed by apparent expressive freedom and an illusion of impressionistic rhapsody. All of these elements were present. In spades. The Edinburgh Quartet got right under the skin of this work and delivered a performance of the highest sensitivity and persuasiveness. On a mild damp October Edinburgh evening, the first movement was straight into a dreamy summer afternoon in the south of France, the melody suffused with an inner glow. The polyrhythmic pizzicato of the scherzo was precise without ever seeming metronomic, while the teasing melancholy of the prolonged muted central section with its abortive attempts at return eventually succeeding (with the francophone’s favourite direction in the Durand edition parts ôtez les sourdines) was exquisite. The ‘slow’ movement (its tempo actually fluctuates) boasted particularly eloquent characterful playing from viola and cello, effectively pointing out the pervasive thematic unity of the work, while the exquisite harmonies of its closing bars were meltingly beautiful. The vigorous agitated finale, with brief moments of tremolando frissons and passing references to earlier themes, drove to the emphatic conclusion. A masterly performance.
I’ll not be waiting another thirty years to catch this ensemble live again.