From the opening measures of the First Quartet, with the six-note motto played as a single expressive arch (rather than broken into two three-note phrases, ascending and descending), you can feel that these performances are going to be special. When the motto returns a few seconds later, this time underpinned by the throaty growl of the cello, this feeling becomes a certainty. The Škampa Quartet has made fine recordings for Supraphon before, but this new one catapults it into the big leagues among Czech quartets. Heaven knows there’s been no shortage of fine performances of this music from such illustrious names as the Janácek, Smetana, Panocha, Prazák, and Talich quartets, but while clearly Czech in their dynamism, refinement of tone, ensemble precision, and passion, the Škampa Quartet synthesizes all of these qualities into its own potently combustible mixture, producing readings of this endlessly fascinating music unlike any others.
Aside from that distinctive phrasing evident right from the beginning, what distinguishes this performance of the First Quartet from the crowd is its unusual sense of formal cohesion produced by fleet tempos and perfectly executed transitions. You can hear this most clearly in the highly contrasted second movement. The Škampas judge the opening accelerando with extraordinary precision and let intensity of tone rather than abrupt changes in tempo govern those eruptive ponticello/tremolo episodes. But where Janácek calls for sudden bursts of speed or ferocious contrasts, as at the opening of the third movement, the players comply with a will. Perhaps the finale impresses most: it moves with inexorable logic and mounting excitement to the cataclysmic return of the motto theme. And yet, despite the explosive impact of this last climax, the Škampas (so much like the Panochas in this respect) never sacrifice beauty of tone for expressive intensity–and more to the point, don’t have to.
This last observation holds particularly true with respect to “Intimate Letters”. Note the broadly paced opening, and in particular the interesting effect produced by giving equal prominence at this tempo to both melody and accompaniment (one of Janácek’s characteristic four-note rolling ostinatos). How marvelously these players build the first big paragraph after the introduction, beginning moderately, bumping up the tempo a notch at the first forte (listen to the cello really dig into his notes), and capping the passage with an effortlessly sustained climax. Even the simple tune at the opening of the second movement has its own naturally inflected shape, consistently phrased first by viola, then violin, before the melody opens out into more expansive musical territory. As just mentioned, however, for all the sheer tonal beauty there’s no holding back. Sample such places as the third movement’s Largamente climax, with its screaming first violin, and you’ll be totally convinced of this fact.
The finale begins swiftly (shades of the Smetana Quartet’s later performances), with pizzicato off-beats rather than the more usual bowed reading. In fact, these players pay unusual attention to the frequent pizzicatos that give so much of this movement its special character and color, distinguishing between arpeggios and block chords with great sensitivity and always producing a richly sonorous tone. In the central “café music” episode, a less-lazy-than-usual tempo and a firmly rhythmic treatment of the accompaniment make this normally dreamy interlude unusually intense and emotive, while in the final frenetic pages these players understand the need to hold back the tempo just a bit to permit clear, intensely powerful articulation of those grinding violin trills that bring the music to its shocking close.
What magnificent performances these are! Supraphon affords the group rich, resonant, coherent, closely miked sound that places every note in its proper perspective. Other ensembles might wither under such exposure, but the Škampa Quartet positively thrives. Playing of this quality has nothing to fear from being captured in such detail. Taken together with recent releases by the Prazák Quartet, it’s abundantly clear that the great tradition of Czech string playing lives on. Long may it rule!
