San Francisco Classical Voice

In addition to the complete works by Webern were Mozart's Quartet in D K575 and Dvorák's Quartet No. 11 in C, Op. 61, the latter two a cut below their composers' best. An odd program, therefore, and sounding at times more like work in progress. Joel Smirnoff, who ascended to first violin following the retirement of Robert Mann in 1997, was off his best form in the Dvorák and seemed to lack the authority that surfaces now and again in that part. Ronald Copes, formerly with the Los Angeles Piano Quartet, took second fiddle behind Smirnoff's move up. Violist Samuel Rhodes and cellist Joel Krosnick each have three decades as Juilliard members.

Not only did the Webern substantially increase the range of colors among the instruments, but, as the Mozart proved, each player had already established his own sound and, in cameo solos, his own idea of phrasing. The emphasis fell more toward a team of individuals than toward ‘follow the leader,' most of the time making perfectly good sense but occasionally needing some added thrust at the top. As string quartets go, these veterans felt no need to reach for the glitzy virtuosity prized by such younger ensembles as the Emerson Quartet.

Mozart simplified the cello part in deference to his patron, Friedrich II of Prussia, who fancied himself a serious player. Given the counterpoint that had suddenly infused his late works, this piece, premiered in 1790, is more a throwback to his earlier mature style. The finale, however, deploys moments of counterpoint, emphasized when thinned to just two voices. The trio of the minuet danced a charming Ländler.

The Dvorák was played extravagantly, with much bluster and flair. The piece dates from the point when the composer had begun infusing his concert works with Slavonic dance rhythms and folk inspired melodies, the period of the Sixth Symphony. But while the symphony presents a dramatic Slavonic turn, the quartet defers to the Viennese taste and, in the first movement, features extended crescendos in the manner of Bruckner. Only in the scherzo, with its quirky rhythm pattern, does the spirit of Smetana's “From My Life” Quartet — composed five years earlier — come through. Compared with the Smetana, and Dvorák's own “American” Quartet of twelve years later, this piece sounds self-conscious and cautious, the performance of it notwithstanding.

But what haunts the memory is the Webern, those three works for string quartet that were presented in reverse order of composition. The “late” String Quartet, Op. 28 of 1938 burns its dodecaphonic counterpoint down to precious stones and metals. No, it can't be hummed, even though there are a couple of spots where violin notes are expressively bent. But it can be marveled at for its internal logic and formal integrity. The earlier Bagatelles (1913), among the tersest of Webern's pieces, are even more distilled, but far more atmospheric, and even worthy of an occasional guffaw. Here colors not only tighten sonorities but become the very stuff of melody itself.

The Five Movements, Op. 5, of 1909, are closest in spirit to the post-romantic chromatic Schoenberg (and, by degrees of separation, Mahler, Bruckner and Schubert.) Sensually voluptuous in their sonorities, they were written following the death of the composer's mother. (They, and the Bagatelles, predate the 12-tone serial technique developed by Schoenberg.) One supposes that saving the early work till last was intended to bring the audience back from dodecaphonic austerity to a more comfortable romantic palette. In any case, it obviously attracted the keen attention of a curious bird, which, it should be noted, did not stick around for the Dvorák.

In that case, the feathered one also missed out on the encore, the Menuetto: Allegretto from Haydn's Quartet, Op 55:2, not the “Bird” Smirnoff wished they had brought with them under the circumstances, but the one nicknamed “Razor.”