Edinburgh Quartet in Stockbridge

Stockbridge Parish Church, 27/1/26

Edinburgh Quartet

Link:  https://www.tickettailor.com/events/edinburghquartet/1915017         
https://www.edinburghquartet.com/eq-apprentice

Originally billed as the 4th concert in the  Edinburgh Quartet’s 2025-26 “St. Cecilia's” Series, their programme of the afternoon of 27th January was first relocated to Stockbridge Parish Church, due to temporary closure of St. Cecilia's Hall for urgent maintenance work, then postponed until 28th February due to illness.  The new timing placed the programme in the middle of a day of collaborative (and to an extent competitive) music-making termed the ‘EQ Apprentice’.  I am embarrassed to admit that it has been over three years since I last reviewed the quartet, and there have been some more personnel changes.  “More” refers to the even longer hiatus, 30 years, since my previous (and first) hearing of the ensemble.  Back then, the gifted Miles Baster was the leader of the quartet and the programme, delivered in the smaller of two examinations halls of the International School of Choueifat in Abu Dhabi, where I was Head of Science, included the Debussy.  I recall enjoying a long chat with the cellist Mark Bailey about chamber music in general, the Debussy, the Ravel and the 15 Shostakovich quartets in particular.  Mark is still the cellist of the Edinburgh Quartet.  At the end of my previous review, which included the Ravel, I promised “I’ll not be waiting another thirty years to catch this ensemble live again”.  Technically, I have honoured that pledge.  I made a day of it and attended both (morning and afternoon) sessions of the EQ Apprentice event, as well as the lunchtime concert.  In this posting, I review the 3-work concert programme as originally planned, then conclude with some remarks on the ‘Apprentice’ event.

Beethoven’s Quartet in C-minor Op. 18 No. 4 holds a special place in my heart for a number of reasons. Firstly, it is the only one of the Beethoven quartets which I’ve played with three fellow amateurs, way back between 1982 and 1984, when I was working on a Ph.D. in mathematical physics, which I never completed. I was keeping body and soul together teaching night classes in Mathematics and Crafts Calculations to electrical apprentices in a college of technology.  In our quartet, I was second violinist.  Our leader was a chemistry lecturer in the college, also a violin dealer who was training as a luthier.  Our violist, still a close friend, was an electronic engineer who had recently begun a long career with Ireland’s phone company, then called Telecom Éireann.  Our cellist was a garda (policeman) who also sang in the Palestrina Choir in Dublin’s Pro-Cathedral.  So the fourth Op.18 is associated with very happy memories.  Another reason is that it has a particularly interesting and rewarding second violin part.  But the main reason, dating back long before I played it, is that it has always been my favourite of the Op.18 set.  It stands out as quirky and unconventional. If the other five represent Beethoven showcasing his own mastery of Haydn’s genre and proudly flexing his creative muscles beyond the master’s achievements, No.4 is in the character of a manifesto, more than hinting at where he was going to take the genre next, with a special emphasis on audacious contrapuntal ingenuity.

Beethoven’s C-minor is rarely free of dark stormy passions and the first movement received an outing that awarded them the fullest dramatic expression.  The second violin gets to lead the angry hammer-blow chords that interrupt the brooding first theme, as well as be the first to sing it in the relative E-flat major as a bridge to the second theme (the cello gets the honour in the recapitulation).  The tension was magnificently sustained throughout.  Op.18 No.4 has no slow movement,  The second movement, Andante scherzoso quasi allegretto, is a leisurely (and somewhat spaced-out) C-major fugal scherzo, introduced by (of course) the second violin.  Some rhapsodic key exploration in its central development section drifts into E-major torpor.  Mists of chromatically shifting chords seem to conceal any escape route.  The goosebump moment, to play or to listen to, is when the second violin shifts from G# to G, unlocking the path back to C-major, the recapitulation sporting a spring in its step.  It was delicious.  The third movement, a minuet and trio in theory, is quite scherzo-like too, the displaced accents on the third beat of the C-minor Minuet making any dancing attempt unwise.  It received a quirky and characterful outing.  In the E-flat major Trio, the first violin seems mesmerised by a spinning top, while the second violin converses nonchalantly with the other two.  The minuet reprise seemed faster second time round.  The rondo finale has a helter-skelter Hungarian flavour, centred on C-minor but with episodic excursions into E-flat major, C-major and others, concluding with a bonkers Prestissimo coda.  Fabulous.

If my starry-eyed appreciation of Op.18 No.4 is blatantly subjective from the second violinist’s chair, English composer Sally Beamish’s is from that of the violist, it being the first piece she ever played in a string quartet, at the age of fifteen, her chamber music epiphany.  Her Quartet No. 2 ‘Opus California’, a commission from the Brodsky Quartet, was written in 2009 after attending the Cabrillo Festival in Santa Cruz.  It takes 4 fragments from the first movement of the Beethoven, developing each into a short movement using aspects of jazz and contemporary American style.  The first movement, ‘Boardwalk’ is tango-like and evokes ‘people-watching’ cool Californians on Santa Cruz’s boardwalk.  The second, ‘Golden Gate’ evokes the majestic bridge viewed from the air in the early morning mist on the bay, with slowly shifting chords.  ‘Dreams before Lullabies’ had the most direct quotations, but transformed into a cradle song.  The last movement, ‘Natural Bridges’ refers to a popular beach with spectacular rock formations.  The music was rich in rhythmic variety, including some fast nervous triplets, as well as expressive range, with a cadenza for first violin, and adventurous timbres, including stylish sul ponticello scurrying.  A concise (about 13 minutes), colourful and immensely satisfying piece, given a persuasive outing.

Webern’s Langsamer Satz pre-dates his avant-garde austerely concise atonal works and is thoroughly Late Romantic in its sound world and unashamedly descriptive in the unfolding thematic development.  It remained unpublished and unperformed until 17 years after his death.  It is descriptive of his innermost feelings while on an idyllic walking holiday in Austrian woodland with his beloved.  The writing alternates between autumnal and radiant, inner calm and urgency, climax and afterglow.  It is very moving and quite different from the music for which Webern became famous.  It received a cogent, skilful and magical interpretation and performance.

An apprentice is a learner who aspires to mastery.  As such, therefore, an apprentice is not a master, yet.  A master seeking an apprentice looks for talent, yes, but also an aptitude for chamber music, the capacity and appetite for growth, and perhaps other qualities such as positivity, openness and alignment of aesthetic values with the master.  As an observer from an audience chair, with a love of chamber music but very little talent, most of those criteria are opaque to me.  So I contented myself with watching for what I could see and listening for what I could hear.  More about that later.  The 9 finalists, comprising 2 violinists, 2 violists, 4 cellists and a bassist had to select two movements from a set repertoire to perform with the quartet, the bassist completing a quintet, the others replacing a member of the quartet.  The three set quartet pieces were: Haydn’s Op.76 No.5 in D major ‘Friedhofsquartett’, Mozart’s K.465 in C major “Dissonance”, and Mendelssohn’s No.2 in A-minor Op.13.  The bassist chose the first movement from each of Dvořák’s Op/77 and Adolphe Blanc’s Quintet (both unknown to me).

What did I look and listen for?  Obviously technical mastery such as flawless intonation, tone production matched to the ensemble, and the like.  Also chamber musician habits like eye contact, listening to each other. And the magical things like mutually responsive phrasing.  The finalist responding to the other players is important.  But the real McCoy is when the others respond to the finalist; their presence becomes an integral part of the performance.  To varying extents, all 9 finalists brought these characteristics to the music making on the day.  But subjectively and by my criteria , I thought that two of the finalists were outstanding.

The winner of the apprenticeship was Australian cellist Clare Juan, who had chosen the delicious slow movement of the Mendelssohn and the dizzy Presto finale of the Haydn.  She is already an accomplished chamber musician with successes in piano trio repertoire, and clearly hungry for the richer palette of quartet repertoire.  At any rate, she ticked the Edinburgh Quartet’s boxes.  Her instrument, made by William Forster Junior in 1804, commissioned by Prince George, later King George IV, and previously owned by the king when he was Prince Charles, is on loan from the Royal College of Music, London.

The last finalist of the morning was Irish violist Eve Quigley, currently on the first year of her Masters at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. and with extensive orchestral experience.  She chose the finale of the Mozart and the slow movement of the Mendelssohn.  Despite Mozart favouring the viola line for his own chamber-playing, K.465’s finale is not his most interesting viola part, being largely rhythmic.  But it was a delight nonetheless.  However, of the two servings of the Mendelssohn slow movement that we heard that day, hers was the most spellbinding.  The pathos of the viola entry that starts the Beethoven-inspired fugal body of the movement was achingly beautiful and, via a conversation with the second violin, the ensemble playing responded in kind.  The climax of the fugue was particularly intense and the first violin’s sobs that return to serenity were particularly expressive.  The next contrapuntal treatment of the song-like theme, also introduced by the viola, held the same fascination.  The closing bars were exquisite and there were tears in my eyes.  After chatting with another audience member (who shared my admiration of Eve) I went off to grab a bite of lunch before the Lunchtime Concert, convinced I had heard the winner.

It was not until the middle finalist of the afternoon session that this conviction was challenged.  British cellist George Wilkes had chosen the slow movement of the Mozart and the first movement of the Mendelssohn. The first thing that struck me was the beautiful tone from his instrument and the command he had of it.  The F-major Andante cantabile features opportunities for dialogue between the cello and the first violin, some idyllic, others mysterious, and they shone, with phrasing that smiled.  Proper Mozart.  For the Mendelssohn, perfect blending in the delicious introductory A-major chording boded well for what was to follow.  As the anxious A-minor Allegro Vivace gets under way, a particularly tricky plaintive anguished cello phrase was eloquently articulated with perfect intonation.  George was, I felt, perfectly integrated into the interpretation and the ensemble sound, the other players responding to his phrasing as much as he was to theirs.  A mysterious passage near the coda was particularly magical.  In short, I had a new ‘winner’.

I shall be on the lookout for all of the young finalists that I heard in Stockbridge, but particularly vigilant for opportunities to follow both Eve and George, already consummate chamber musicians but with so much more to bring to chamber interpretation and performance as they grow as artists.