Brahms’ Quartets are respected more than they are loved. Hans Keller, the mid-20th-century psycho-guru of quartet playing, conspicuously omitted them from his list of “intrinsic quartets”. Perhaps no other works by Brahms fit his dictum so well of, “Work at it, work at it. Whether the result is beautiful is another matter entirely, but perfect it must be.” Though hardly lacking attractive ideas, the music can very easily come to sound excessively overworked, and texturally monotonous. Take the opening of the B-flat major quartet, with its fascinating play on rhythm: where some performances grind through it like an academic exercise, the Takács Quartet makes the music dance, and that, in essence, is the secret of their success.
Whether it’s giving this same quartet’s scherzo just the right touch of “agitato”, or finding the perfect tempo for the finale’s (let’s face it) potentially overlong variations, these performances go straight to the music’s expressive heart. One of the more curious aspects of both quartets lies in the fact that their not-terribly-quick scherzo-ish third movements are in fact longer than the slow movements. This means a relatively high proportion of moderate busyness to restrained lyricism, especially in the C minor quartet. The Takács players solve this problem, at least in part, through careful attention to dynamic nuances and textural shading.
Another factor that keeps the ear perked up is the group’s juicy, resinous timbre–very different from the smoother sound typical, say, of many of the best Czech ensembles, but somehow just right for music that can easily turn bland. Violist Geraldine Walther’s solo at the start of the B-flat major quartet’s third movement deserves special mention: it’s the essence of the true Brahmsian espressivo, and a hallmark of the performances generally. Perfect engineering rounds out a release that presents this elusive music in the best possible light. [2/2/2009]
