San Francisco Classical Voice

The Mozart (D Minor, K 421) was less successful, more diffident. Sonically there was a curious blur, like a pianist over-pedaling. In one instance cellist Jennifer Kloetzel seized control of the moment, tartly bringing it back into focus. In others the performance sounded merely learnéd. The players introduced a Luftpause, for example, a brief silent suspension in the air, before resuming the line. Unfortunately, the device became predictable, its durations identical, its effect ordinary. Only in the stately siciliano which completes the work was there a commitment to distinct color, to a real eloquence. This is a quartet which ends with what Leonard Ratner has wisely called one of Mozart's "parting gifts," a small, perfect, and unexpected present left under the tree. These players unwrapped it with delight.

It was in Cotton's new work that the Cypress Quartet blazed, holding nothing in reserve. Their commitment to this work was startling, and deeply impressive. Cotton went well beyond merely commenting on the similarities between the Haydn and Mozart. He took their forms, their keys, their sensibility, and then imposed and super-imposed his own upon them. He did so with tremendous musical judgment and finesse, giving pride of place to Haydn throughout.

The first movement, Overture, is an aggressive and often motoric essay. Sometimes a pasticcio, sometimes a prism, it gave equal weight to all four voices. Each player responded with driving pulse, unafraid of the oddness and angularity of the writing. They came alive.

A vigorous Capriccio followed. It cited a pizzicato ostinato, and turned it into a galloping exploration of quicksilver ideas, largely driven by the cello and by Ethan Filner on viola. The third movement, “Chorale and cabaret,” offered the strongest writing of the night. It was ruminative and introspective, especially at its most vocal moments. The solo first violin floated on evocations of Mozart, flavored with artificial harmonics and authentic reverence.

The other strings, led by second violin Tom Stone, responded with rich texture and tentative question. One gesture, given twice, created a shimmering sound field that transfixed the audience. Moving slowly from frog to tip, three bows playing as one slipped into tremolando, almost unnoticed. This was extremely idiomatic string writing, and a wisely-chosen special effect.

The fourth movement, “Variations,” provided the most direct reference to its predecessors. In both the Mozart and Haydn, this sequence followed standard variation-form logic. Cotton applied these rules with a literalism which did not quite succeed emotionally. He served three sets of six variations. The first six stood independently, and often spoke in a brutal and visceral tongue. The next six commented on the first, querulously and sometimes derisively. The final six commented on the second, and drove even further afield. Each set was separated by a cadential refrain and the entire movement ended in a jolly and arpeggiated major chord, prepared by nothing. The movement enjoyed the formal verities of Palladian blueprints, but lacked the tremendous heart of the Chorale which preceded it.

Even so, this was exciting writing, marking the gifts of its composer and the brilliance of his advocates.