Wigmore Hall
Bach – Chorale Preludes: ‘Liebster
Jesu, wir sind hier,’ BWV 731; ‘Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr,’ BWV 662; ‘In
dulci jubilo,’ BWV 608
John Musto – Another Place (world premiere)Webern – Langsamer Satz
Schoenberg – String Quartet no.2, op.10
Bach goes more or less
unerringly well with music of the Second Viennese School. Three Chorale
Preludes, arranged for string quartet, did not, however, seem to have any
obvious connection with the song cycle, Another
Place, by John Musto, which here received its first performance. (Nor did
works by Schoenberg and Webern.) Treated on their own terms, though, they were
welcome to hear. Bach from a string quartet often seems to offer a slight
element of friction, perhaps because it is so ‘Classical’ an idiom at heart:
does one ever fail to think of Haydn or Beethoven? I remain to be convinced,
for instance, that the Art of Fugue
finds its most natural home here. By the same token, however, Bach is too great
to be constricted by such matters, and the Heath Quartet offered an intriguing
balance, despite my initial doubts concerning minimal vibrato, between
modernity and the sonorities of certain Baroque organ stops. More than once, I
fancied I heard an echo of an 8’ Gamba. ‘Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier’ was
taken at a sensible tempo, speaking, as the useful cliché has it, ‘for itself’.
There was indeed something winningly self-effacing about all the performances.
Great clarity was achieved; harmonic tension was productive, without being exaggerated.
The quasi-serial expansiveness of ‘Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr’ had me wish
it would continue for eternity. ‘In dulci jubilo,’ however odd it might sound
on the hottest day of the year, was, by contrast, experienced in the twinkling
of an eye.
Musto’s new work sets verse
by Mark Strand, father of the dedicatee, Jessica Strand. Paul Griffiths’s
programme note tried gamely to discern a Schoenbergian connection: ‘The soprano
in Schoenberg’s Second Quartet discovers, was we will hear, the “air of another
planet”; in this new work …, she finds “another place”, which seems to be a
place out of this life.’ If you like. Aside from a certain busy-ness of
counterpoint in the first movement, I failed to discern anything more. No
matter: whilst I cannot say that the songs made a great impression upon me,
they were well enough put together, provided one could take a language which,
at its most adventurous, seemed to extend little further than Britten or Weill.
The second, ‘Another Place’, offers a passacaglia one can hardly miss:
certainly several times less oblique than that of Pierrot lunaire. Likewise, the 5/8 dance of the following ‘XVIII
from Dark Harbor’ and pictorial
representation of a heartbeat therein announce themselves without subtlety,
though not without effect. Performances were throughout committed. As I have repeated
perhaps too often before, if you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of
thing you will like.
Webern is certainly the sort
of thing I do like. His early slow movement for string quartet received as fine
a performance as I can recall, enabling me almost to see, let alone hear, early
twentieth-century Vienna. It was ‘late Romantic’ in the best sense, ushering
in, as well as waving the fondest of farewells: not just gorgeous, but tastefully
gilded. Tempo was admirably flexible, founded upon sound structural
understanding. Kinship with Verklärte
Nacht was abundantly clear, especially when a motif passed furiously
between the instruments. Vibrato was – well, put it this way: not for
Norringtonians. But there was great variegation with respect to dynamic
contrasts, which were yet always integrated into an expansion of what
Schoenberg would have called the Idea. Even the relative gaucheness of the young
Webern could hardly have proved more lovable.
I am not sure I have heard a
bad performance of Schoenberg’s Second String Quartet; there was no question of
this performance breaking that particular mould. The first movement was already
heading in that direction, whilst remaining of our own – or rather, 1908’s own –
planet. The contrapuntal complexities of the First Quartet and First Chamber
Symphony, and the latter’s joy (if here, ever turning to F-sharp minor melancholy)
soon came to mind. It was salutary to hear Schoenberg sounding more radical
than Webern. Brahmsian intensity was palpable throughout; so also was the
possibility of themes we heard taking on life beyond their present tonal
moorings. (The same can also, of course, be said of many of Brahms’s themes.)
Flexibility and harmonic understanding again provided a sure context for the
unfolding musical drama.
The second movement seemed to
take us a step closer. (I know that I am speaking teleologically, perhaps
unduly so, but it is difficult to avoid doing so in this work, and I am not
sure I see the point in trying.) There was certainly a great deal of pent-up
intensity in both the material and its unfolding. Again, it was the sureness of
integration – of melody, harmony, and rhythm – that signalled the excellence of
the Heath Quartet’s performance. That quotation
actually had me laugh, so startling did its humour, if humour it be, prove. The
closing bars were incendiary.
Harking back to the opening
of the concert, the opening bars of ‘Litanei’ sounded almst as if they were
from a Bach Chorale Prelude, albeit with a touch of Beethovenian ‘Muß es sein?’
With Carolyn Sampson’s entry, almost but not quite bell-like, ghosts of
Romanticism assembled, as they (not quite correctly) believed, for one final
conference. Twin ecstasy and nostalgia relating to that assumed parting of the
ways thrilled, as did Sampson’s mini-Kundry-ish downward leap. Strings briefly
reminded us of what, tonally, was at stake.
The ‘air of another planet’
never fails to brace, to invite, even to seduce; nor did it fail here. So we
were brought to the moment of transition, which, I am not afraid to admit, elicited
a tear from my eyes. With those
words, necessary release came – without, or so it seemed, the slightest of
effort. And how ambivalent the following cello line sounded, testament to the
meaning of both work and performance. Thereafter, there came exploration, ever
firmly to what had gone before, and yet with early freshness of discovery
recaptured. Moonlight silver and vocal conviction sounded with unerring conviction.
The players, however, quite rightly reminded us that, ultimately, this remains
a string quartet – and what a string quartet!
I had not anticipated an
encore, let alone two; nor would I have anticipated the choices. The second of
Britten’s Three Divertimenti and an a cappella performance of The Ash Grove – as Sampson told us, her
favourite folk song – proved just the unexpected ticket, in their different
ways.
