LF 26: Consone Quartet
Aberlady Parish Church, 18/9/26
Consone Quartet
The afternoon of 19th September brought youthful period instrument group, the Consone Quartet, to the Lammermuir Festival venue of Aberlady’s lovely Parish Church. With gut strings and lighter period bows (so-called “classical” or “early transitional” bows which have a clip-in frog instead of a steel screw mechanism to adjust the tension of the bow hairs), they are the first period instrument group to be selected as BBC New Generation artists. The programme comprised Clara Schumann’s ‘Three Romances’ Op.22, Mozart’s ‘Hunt’ Quartet and Schubert’s A-minor ‘Rosamunde’ Quartet. At the Lammermuir Festival four years ago, I reviewed period instrument group Quatuor Mosaïques and wrote:
“Using gut strings brings both challenges and rewards. Chief among the challenges is the tendency of gut strings to not hold tuning; chief among the rewards is a glorious warm tone. Not surprisingly, this expert ensemble has tamed the tuning challenge by tuning between movements. They have also added to the rewards. Not only is their ensemble tone warm, but they have harnessed the unique almost unpolished ‘wildness’ of the strings to better express characterful features of the music, whether the rustic charm of Haydn’s mischievous folk dance or the aching melancholy of Schubert’s intensely poignant melodic lines.”
The same can be echoed for the Consone Quartet, but with the additional observation that the lighter bows enable greater agility in the articulation and the control of dynamics, and that unlocks a more mutually responsive phrasing and, as a consequence, more captivating expression.
The programme opened with Clara Schumann’s 1853 ‘Three Romances’, originally written for violin and piano. I had heard them in the original version and also transposed for cello. This was a first hearing for me of the arrangement for string quartet by first violinist of the Solem Quartet, Amy Tress, and it is a gorgeous arrangement. They are delightful character pieces in the manner of songs without words. The first piece was barcarolle-like, lyrical and chromatic, aching with longing, in a melody that reminded me of the second theme of the first movement of Robert Schumann’s Piano Quintet (which, in turn, prefigures ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’). Exquisite. The second Romance was more pensive but with capricious moments, settling to a less anxious conclusion with a cheeky pizzicato tierce de Picardie. The concluding Romance was a song of devotion reminiscent of Clara’s husband’s ‘Widmung’, sung by George Ross’ cello, answered by first violinist Agata Daraškaitė. Delightful.
In April 1984, as second violinist of an amateur quartet, I attended the weekend chamber music course run twice a year by Dublin Chamber Music Group, in the headquarters of the Irish Countrywomen’s Association in Termonfeckin near Drogheda. In idyllic surroundings with excellent catering, amateur chamber music groups are coached by professionals in the performance of a single movement. A concert at the end of the weekend showcases the results of the coaching. The piece my group worked on was the first movement of Mozart’s String Quartet in B flat major K458, ‘Hunt’ Quartet, so-called because of the exuberant galloping 6/8 momentum of the first movement. The piece therefore holds fond memories and a special place in my heart. In Aberlady, lovely lightness of touch pervaded this cross-country ride, with not a galumph in sight. A relaxed lyrical new theme appears at the start of the development, leading to some cloud shadows resulting from some key exploration, swiftly returning to the opening mood. Haydnesque whimsy illuminates the coda. When a six-bar cadential phrase is repeated and appears to be delaying the end, second violin and viola cut in impatiently with forte semiquavers, the former double-stopping, to nail the cadence. It’s a gag and definitely marked forte. I thought it was a bit too genteel, and that violinist Magdalena Loth-Hill and violist Elitsa Bogdanova could have given it more welly. Their tone was still delicious. “Genteel” was spot-on for the elegant minuet-and-trio, mostly a sweet song for first violin, though some chromatic mischief from the second violin in the first part is echoed by the first violin in the second, with a leap of an octave-plus-a-seventh to show who’s boss. This is the fourth of the six quartets that Mozart dedicated to his friend Haydn, and the imitative humour is affectionate. That one was beautifully pointed. As with the Fibonacci quartet, stylish additional ornamentation from the first violin in the reprise of the minuet was scrumptious. It was in the idyllic slow movement that the ensemble sound was most stunning. Gorgeous phrasing with little teasing tenuti, perfect for Mozart, was couched in radiant tone, the harmony spot-on with flawless intonation, all four lines fitting together perfectly. Conversation between cello and first violin was achingly beautiful. Particularly fine blending too was evident in the repeated notes of accompaniment. I can’t imagine better. Haydnesque wit returned in the playful scampering finale. A tongue-in-cheek fugal episode looked like it was going to launch but was nipped in the bud by the mischievous momentum, which bowled along right through to the cheeky end. Top-drawer Mozart.
After the interval, we had Schubert’s String Quartet in A minor D804 ‘Rosamunde’, named for the melody of the Andante, which is lifted from incidental music Schubert wrote for a stage production of that name. I go back quite a long way with that melody. When I was first learning to play properly, my father used to write out simple melodies on manuscript paper for me to try and it was one of the first I tackled. About the same time (1969-ish) we used to go to quartet concerts in the National Gallery in Dublin, where I will definitely have heard the whole work performed. It is unusual music. Even when it is in a major key, there is an unease, a vulnerability, that refuses to be concealed. Accompanying figures seem obsessive and emotionally detached, unsympathetic, even menacing. The Schubertian theme of innocence threatened by cruel nature pervades the work. From the start, the Consone Quartet caught this unease perfectly. The C-major ‘Rosamunde’ melody of the Andante is innocence itself and the illusion of its inviolability persists for a time, but the myth crumbles in a turbulent agitated passage and, although C-major is restored, the illusion has been shattered. In the minuet, the menace of the cello’s introductory figure keeps intruding in an already anxious melody, so that the Gemütlichkeit of the Trio is overshadowed and ultimately eclipsed by the Unheimlichkeit of the minuet’s reprise. The finale, then, is enigmatic. Or is it? A sweet tripping dance in the sunny key of A-major, what’s not to love? But our trust has been betrayed – is it real? Dare we hope? Schubert’s masterpiece keeps us guessing. The Consone Quartet preserved the ambiguity perfectly. A super performance.