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CHAMBER MUSIC REVIEW
Bringing Haydn & Mozart to Life, Sometimes
April 8, 2001
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By Michael Fiday
Upon opening the program to the Lindsay Quartet's concert on Sunday at Berkeley's Hertz Hall, I groaned at the idea of an entire concert devoted to the music of Haydn and Mozart. Even setting my decidedly modern tastes aside, I wondered at the rationale behind a program that focuses exclusively on Viennese-period repertoire at the expense of 300 years of quartet writing. But with further reflection, I decided such programming could have its advantages, allowing the audience to give greater weight and attention to classical works that might otherwise seem mere divertissements or afterthoughts alongside more bullyish Romantic or 20th century works — advantageous, that is, if the performers can bring to life and make special the unique expressive world each work inhabits.
The members of the Lindsay Quartet, together for 35 years, have devoted a great deal of that time to the music of Franz Josef Haydn: Their interpretations of Haydn quartets are acclaimed, and they are currently the better part of the way through a daunting mission to record all of them. Their opening reading of the G Major Quartet, Op. 76, No. 1, showed this level of comfort and familiarity, evident from the tutti chords and cello theme (incisively played by Bernard Gregor-Smith) of the opening Allegro con spirito.
The expressive variety of the work was well conveyed, from the pathos inherent in the central minor-key section of the Adagio sostenuto (which they brought down to a whisper), to that distinctive brand of Haydnesque humor in the Menuetto, which stimulated a few good chuckles from the audience on its completion. (Did any composer of the period use rhythm and silence to better comic effect?)
But though the quartet gave a succinct and spirited performance, there were problems. First violinist Peter Cropper's intonation was unstable at first (a situation that got better as the evening wore on), and some of his fast passagework seemed a bit sloppy. The fast cello work in the Finale surely had comico-dramatic intentions, but cellist Gregor-Smith played the passage as an exaggerated affectation, scratching coarsely through it as if it were a Beethovenian thunderstorm. Most important, increased dynamic contrast would have helped to heighten the work's expressive scope.
The remainder of the program was devoted to the two string quintets of Mozart, K. 515 and 516, for which the Lindsay was augmented by the very attentive and supportive playing of Geraldine Walther, principal violist of the San Francisco Symphony. Despite being written in a period of months (apparently as a quick way to pay off debts), both works have an expansive quality, as in the opening of the C Major Quintet, K. 515, where a theme is stated in major in the violin, with a response in the cello, after which the mode switches to minor and the roles of violin and cello are reversed. The way this opening unfolds is an early indication of the piece's grand design (in fact, this is the longest sonata allegro form pre-Beethoven). This interplay between two instruments is reflected also in the beautiful Andante, itself a duo for violin and viola, featuring some stellar work by violist Richard Young (of the Vermeer Quartet, here filling in for the injured Robin Ireland). This was the evening's most inspired offering, leaving a sense of calm only minimally marred by the faint chirping of someone's beeper. The final Allegro returned the music to its joyous, giddy self, supported by some crisp, tight ensemble playing and sensitive communication at the ends of phrases.
If K. 515 is sunshine, then K. 516 (in G minor) is the storm. First violinist Cropper brought out the yearning aspect of the opening chromatic theme, which sets the tone for this somber first movement. The following Menuetto is not one to be danced by. Again in a minor key, its opening is slowish in tempo, full of swells, dramatic chords, unpredictable harmonies, and a phrasing that is difficult to reconstruct upon first hearing. This emotional thorniness is relieved somewhat by the Adagio, its plaintive textures heightened by being played muted throughout. The quintet's dramatic tensions are resolved in a novel formal way in the final movement. Beginning with a beautiful Adagio (an aria for violin and gently pulsing accompaniment), the music at last gives way to the concluding Allegro, cast in a major key and a brisk and cheerful triple meter. Again, both of these works received spirited, attentive, and able-bodied performances. But again something seemed missing. If a certain lack of dynamic contrast is an issue in Haydn, it's an even greater problem in Mozart's music, which relies less on hard-edged gestures and more on subtlety. As it was, the performers seemed to chug along in a confined dynamic space somewhere between mezzo forte and fortissimo, failing to point out the dramas and mysteries within either quintet and also failing to convince me that an afternoon of Haydn and Mozart was anything but uniform and tiring. This was not an adventurous program — but certainly a program that could have been played with adventurousness! (Michael Fiday, a former instructor at West Chester and Temple Universities in Philadelphia, is a composer and a relatively recent transplant to the San Francisco Bay Area.) ©2001 Michael Fiday, all rights reserved |
