Tchaikovsky Quartets I & II
Prestongrange Parish Church, Prestonpans 12/9/25
St Mary’s Church, Whitekirk 14/9/25
Dudok Quartet Amsterdam [Judith van Driel, Marleen Wester (violins), Marie-Louise de Jong (viola), David Faber (cello)]
Over two recitals at this year’s Lammermuir Festival, Dudok Quartet Amsterdam performed Tchaikovsky’s 3 string quartets. The first recital, in Prestongrange Parish Church on the night of 12th, covered the first two quartets, with the best-known and most-loved First Quartet played last. In St Mary's Church, Whitekirk on the morning of 14th, the Third Quartet was preceded by a B-flat quartet movement that pre-dates the set (but was not published until the 20th century), plus arrangements for strinq quartet of four months from Tchaikovsky’s set of 12 character pieces for solo piano, bizarrely titled ‘The Seasons’ (yes, they are months). Although the quartet has won praise for their revelatory recordings of the Tchaikovsky quartets performed on gut strings, this year’s Lammermuir Festival was their first opportunity to perform them live in this way, as hitherto their live concerts have always included at least one later work for which gut strings would have been inappropriate. When chamber performers are “in their ‘happy place’” then, very soon, so is their audience. And so it was.
Tchaikovsky’s 1874 String Quartet No 2 in F major Op 22, I had better confess from the outset, was a first hearing for me. And that, in itself, is bewildering, because it was revealed as a thoroughly fine piece of late romantic writing. Perhaps the Tchaikovsky quartets are like the Bruch violin concertos: the first is so good that nobody is bothered to go and hear the two that they don’t know, perpetuating a vicious circle of invisibility? When a violinist talks about “the Bruch”, they mean the First Violin Concerto. After informative introductory remarks from cellist David Faber, the piece opened with an Adagio introduction. An ornate soliloquy for first violin (Judith van Driel) rose out of listless tutti, not in F (or, indeed, any other key), becoming animated and launching the Moderato assai teeming with Russian themes that seem to prefigure Borodin The warmth of the tone from the gut strings was absolutely scrumptious, even when the texture became denser and the counterpoint more complex, though a couple of wolves escaped from Judith’s instrument when the bowing was agile and the dynamic relaxing. It was impossible not to be caught up in the seemingly spontaneous creative flow of the music. The movement ended very quietly. The lyrical D-flat major scherzo had a bewildering pulse, bars of 6/8 peppered with the occasional 9/8, initially regularly and then seemingly randomly, wrong-footing any attempt at choreography (how did he ever get a gig as a ballet composer?). Its trio section, a waltz if you dare to trust it, was utterly charming. The slow movement, starting in F-minor was typical heart-on-the-sleeve Tchaikovsky, yearning, melancholy and soulful. A brief animated flight of E-major fancy was quickly pulled back to the home turf Russian melancholy. An extraordinary climactic passage built to an impassioned plea, before the music returned to the gloom. The finale was back to F-major, playful and scampering, mixing lyricism with dance and more than a hint of a mazurka. And then there was a fugue, started by 2nd violin (Marleen Wester), the others entering in the order first violin, cello and viola (Louise de Jong). Tchaikovsky seems unable to contain his explosive creativity, carrying us through to a joyful scampering coda. Fabulous.
Tchaikovsky String Quartet No 1 in D major Op 11 is the most popular for a reason. It is absolutely gorgeous. Warm and radiant chording and rhythmic indeterminacy evoke relaxed contentment at the start of the first movement. When the music departs from that place of safety, there is no anxiety or peril, just curiosity and discovery. There is some very Mozartean key-exploration in the development, imaginatively enhanced ornamentation in the recapitulation and an excited quickening towards the end of the movement. All characterfully and engagingly performed. The muted B-flat major folk-tune like melody that opens the Andante cantabile, which famously reduced Tolstoy to tears, was exquisite, as was the rhapsodic violin aria that follows it.. Perfect. The D-minor scherzo mazurka-like folk-dance was full of rustic charm. Its G-minor trio was a frisson of unsettling strangeness, before the reprise of the folk dance. The rondo-sonata finale, happy and free-ranging was chock-full of glorious Russian themes. A wind-down to a quiet pause, before the final dash was the gleeful conclusion.
There was an encore: a clever arrangement of Lensky's heart-rending aria 'Kuda, kuda, vi udalilis' from ‘Eugene Onegin’. A great way to spend a Friday night. And, dear reader, there was cake.
And, for that matter, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than in Whitekirk’s medieval St Mary’s, hearing Tchaikovsky goodies served up by the Dudok Quartet. All except the cellist play standing up. David rose with the microphone to introduce the 1865 Quartet Movement in B-flat, a remarkably mature student work. It was not published until the 20th century, the publisher sending out free copies of the first couple of pages to market it to amateur groups and students, as if it were easy. David assured us that it is nothing of the sort. A slow and tender hymn-like folk melody opens, with warm chording that shows the influence of Beethoven. Then more animated material is treated conversationally between the instruments, becoming a breezy cheery Russian folk dance, followed by a lovely calmer second theme, sweetly discussed before an impatient cello reanimates the discourse. It is the second theme that triumphs at the climax, however. After a reprise of the hymn-like intro, the cello sets up the calm final cadence. Quite excellent for a student work. As always, tuning after each movement kept the gut strings on the straight and narrow.
We heard 4 of ‘The Seasons‘: March, July, September and October. March was wistful with a steady pulse. Expressive and ornate birdsong emulation floated over harmonies that reminded me of Grieg. Sul ponticello shivers from the viola reminded us of chill winds. July was predictably sunny, cheery and confident in a major key. Russian folk song with dance elements conjured outdoor celebration. September was brisk and dancelike, with evocation of harvest celebration and hunting. I was reminded again of Grieg and also Tchikovsky’s own Serenade for Strings. October wallowed in Russian ennui and melancholy and was delicious. Pass the vodka.
The String Quartet No 3 in E flat minor Op 30 is mostly elegiac and very symphonic. The slow introduction is a plaintive lament leading to the slow trudge of a funeral march and sobbing exchanges between cello and first violin which subsides before the Allegro moderato, the bustle of “life going on” is constantly interrupted by pangs of grief. The funeral march returns at the end of the movement, with bittersweet tenderness of remembrance. The gloom lifts for the lightly tripping polka-like B-flat major of the scherzo, with a lilting central section. Pure delight. Back to E-flat minor for properly funereal music. A lyrical wistful relative G-flat major melody hints at warm remembrance, but the elegiac reality reasserts itself, fading to the stillness of the grave. Resolute E-flat major asserts the triumph of life over death in the striding, confident, almost gleeful finale. For one dreadful moment, the funeral march threatens to return. It is swept away in a final triumphant dash. The Third Quartet was already known to me and I’ve heard it live at least once before. I’ve also heard its third movement played as an encore by the old Smetana Quartet. But, in Whitekirk, it was revealed as the masterpiece it is. In the long term, no doubt, the First will regain its place, through familiarity and the beauty of the slow movement, as my favourite, but right now I am captivated by the Third, so it may take a while. Thank you, Dudoks. A performance not to be forgotten.