Plymouth
Church
March
18
Precision and passion in a two-night marathon. |
There
was a moment of absolute stillness and then an audible exhalation of
breath after the Takács
Quartet brought Béla
Bartók’s String
Quartet No. 6 to a hushed close
on Tuesday night. The broken spell reflected not only the
hypnotic grip the ensemble had on the piece and their audience, but
the conclusion of an intense encounter with the Hungarian composer –
all six of his string quartets played over two evenings
at Plymouth Church.
The
Takács Quartet has a long
and deep relationship with the pieces, which they recorded on a 1998
release that Gramophone named the Best Chamber Recording of the year.
They presented them in an odd-even pairing – Nos. 1, 3
& 5 on the first night, and 2, 4 & 6
on the second. That grouping balanced the length of the concerts and,
more importantly, gave listeners a chance to appreciate the entire
arc of Bartók’s musical
thinking and development on both nights.
What
is most striking hearing the string quartets in that concentration is
the revolutionary genius of the composer. The first quartet is a transitional
work that employs familiar patterns and techniques even as it
reflects new directions in 20th-century music. In the rest, Bartók
completely deconstructs the form and rebuilds it according to his own
ideas and purposes. Played with the clarity and intelligence that the
Takács Quartet brings to
the works, they unfold like a dazzling series of revelations, each a
new adventure in structure, a fresh blend of flavors and influences,
and an emergence of powerful new harmonies.
In
the solemn tones of No. 1 on
Monday night, the group established its sound, a distinctive
admixture of precision and warmth with Old World style and depth.
That fit the piece perfectly, as the opening elegy gave way to
livelier rhythms and the first flashes of the folk idioms that became
an increasing part of Bartók’s
work. In No. 3,
written nearly 20 years later, they appear as brief squirts of melody
and curlicues of color amid slashing violin lines and fiery passages
in which all four instruments are going in separate directions. The
players seemed psychically linked in their seamless execution and
tight, controlled sound.
A
fierce start on No. 5
set the tone for a thrilling rendering of the piece, which dissects
melodies as quickly as it creates them, and mixes squeals, chattering
and other odd noises into a fast-paced blend of folk and classical
rhythms. This calls for virtuoso playing skills, but the group was
even more impressive in its ability to pull all the disparate
elements together into an organic sound, as if one voice were
speaking in many intonations and colors.
On
Tuesday, a gripping opening movement in No. 2 set up the
insistent ostinato in the second movement, which gathered an
irresistible momentum but never lost the sound of four distinct
instruments. Each was like a separate soul in anguish, driven to a
dramatic frenzy that suddenly broke and gave way to the deep
melancholy of the third and final movement, in which the waves of
anxiety receded and the voices, softer now, became meditative and
resigned.
For
No. 4, the group opened up a bit, putting a sharper edge on
the sound and an electric charge particularly in the opening and
closing movements, which mirror one another. The all-pizzicato fourth
was a tour de force – who knew plucking the strings could produce
so many different sounds? It was also an opportunity to get a
close-up look at the “Bartók
pizzicato,” which calls for plucking the string so strongly that it
snaps against the instrument. The music is too serious for the effect to be
humorous, but there was panache in the group’s execution of the
technique. And a note of playfulness in the freewheeling snatches of
melody in the final movement.
Individual
voices were strong in No. 6 – a smooth opening viola solo,
the cello dominant in the second movement, then the spectral tones of
the third coalescing into a full complement of harsh strokes played
tight and fast. The quartet dug deep for the finale, drawing on a
well of emotion with an exquisite craftsmanship that left everyone
holding their breath.
Is
it possible for an ensemble to get better over the course of two
nights? Given the caliber of the Takács
Quartet, it’s almost absurd to talk about one performance being
better than another. Yet along with the music there was a clear sense
of development in the playing, which seemed to grow both more studied
and more spontaneous as the pieces became more complex. By the end,
the ensemble was not so much performing the quartets as inhabiting
them, bringing them to impassioned life with a riveting combination
of freshness and authority.
For
more on the Takács
Quartet: http://www.takacsquartet.com/
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