East Neuk Festival: Razumovsky Day

Kilrenny and Crail Churches

Cuarteto Quiroga, Calidore Quartet, Opus13

July 4th at this year’s East Neuk Festival was designated ‘Razumovsky Day’ (as the BBC might say, at the mention of a brand-name, “other celebrations exist”). As the festival celebrates its 21st birthday and, where last year 4 illustrious string quartet ensembles tackled Beethoven’s 5 Late Quartets over 5 concerts, this year 3 more played the 3 Op.59 quartets (named for the Russian count and ambassador to Vienna who commissioned them) over 3 concerts in 1 day. There was also a short but elucidating talk on the topic of the Razumovskys given by Festival Director Svend McEwan-Brown in Crail Community Hall, where he took the opportunity to extol the value, both historic and modern, of “a patron with deep pockets”. The three ensembles were Cuarteto Quiroga, the Calidore Quartet, and Opus13. Each concert opened with another work.

Kilrenny Church at noon was the venue for the first of the day’s concerts, given by Spanish string quartet Cuarteto Quiroga (3 members of which had played beautifully in Schubert’s ‘Trout’ Quintet the previous afternoon). They opened with Arriaga’s 1821 Quartet No.3, a first hearing for me, and it is a gem. Its opening Allegro phrase is very close to that of Beethoven’s Opus 18 No.1, but in its dramatic conversations between the instruments and adventurous key exploration, it reminded me more of another precocious gifted teenager, Mendelssohn. The playing revealed its exquisitely crafted beauty in full measure, advocacy with evident pride for the work of a fellow-Spaniard, who sadly did not survive past his teenage years. The Andantino evoked a Venetian vibe, an idyllic barcarolle in 3 with barrel-organ tropes, interrupted by a storm. It was during the storm sequence that a disturbance in the balcony of the church was evident, so at the calm end of the movement, Svend went to investigate. An audience member had taken ill. The musicians retired until, after about 10 minutes, the matter was dealt with, they returned and the performance resumed. The brisk scherzo was like a nervous and syncopated dance (a Ländler danced by angry spectres), while its ‘trio’ was like an affectedly genteel waltz with a sweet solo for first violin. The Presto agitatofinale was full of Haydnesque wit, but its main rondo theme bore a striking resemblance to that of the finale of Op.18 No.1 again. A super piece given a spirited and committed outing, with more than a hint of national pride and a surprise link to Beethoven.

There is an air of audacity in the cello tune which opens Opus 59 No.1, as if setting out confidently on a great journey of exploration, but also something unsettling in the sparseness of harmonic support, which then gels, momentarily masking the subversion. But Beethoven is planning an exploration, of a new sound world for the string quartet, one with huge dynamic contrasts, quasi-symphonic textures, disorienting passages of tonal indeterminacy, challenging technical demands on the players, and fiercely ingenious counterpoint with lots of fugal writing. In that first movement we get it all. So the First Razumovsky is a rough diamond, its first movement tasked with being a manifesto for the rest of Beethoven’s iconic canon of quartets. But it doesn’t have to sound rough, and it often does. With Cuarteto Quiroga, the ensemble sound and tone were polished and the intonation flawless, without robbing the music of any of its drama and spirit-shocking wonder. It is the cello again that opens the quirky scherzo with deceptive lightness of touch, quickly subverted into an inelegant dance with all the disorienting characteristics of the first movement, plus a dash of humour, complete with a central foray into harmonic and contrapuntal terra incognita. Brilliantly played. Exquisite sotto voce opened the melancholy F-minor slow movement, rapidly becoming poignantly expressive of the many facets of grief, including a cantabile interlude of great pathos in D-flat major. A lovely melisma for first violin linked attacca to the cathartic finale, a Russian theme introduced by cello, taken up by violin and launching a gleeful sonata-form knees-up. The coda, with what was to become a common Beethoven trick of whimsically examining different possible endings before springing a surprise, gave us a final sweet, affectionate, wistful Adagio look at the Russian theme, before a Presto dash to the finish. Delightful, prompting enthusiastic applause. Second violinist Cibrán Sierra introduced the encore, an arrangement of a Galician jig, Celtic-flavoured music which he said would feel familiar to a Scottish audience. It certainly did to this Irishman. Familiar, genial and beautifully executed.

The combination of the medical emergency during the Arriaga, the unscheduled encore and a traffic bottleneck at the west end of Crail meant that getting to Crail Community Hall in time for the scheduled start of Svend’s talk was a tall order, including for Svend himself, so of course the start was delayed, no doubt forcing it to be more concise than originally planned. It was still very enjoyable and enlightening.

Crail Church was the venue for the remaining two concerts, American ensemble, the Calidore Quartet, took on the Second Razumovsky, preceding it in their programme with the UK premiere of an ENF co-commission from Mark Anthony Turnage, ‘Arietta’, a theme and variations based on the second half of Beethoven’s last Piano Sonata (Op.111), an extended movement of the same name and form (the third of Beethoven’s variations has a distinctive boogie-woogie/swing vibe). The composer was present and, wearing his signature black trilby, genially introduced the work: “don’t worry; it’s not scary: it even has a key signature”. And indeed, it was quite melodious, the theme with a slight underlying unease, like in the original. The first variation soared on first violin, with notes tied over barlines. The second was like a diffident slow waltz, like the wistful first movement of Shostakovich’s First Quartet. A faster waltz variation followed, all playing pizzicato. Next, faster still and jig-like, but derailed by syncopation and then anxious tremolo. Cantabile viola and first violin arioso variations followed, accompanied by string crossing legato arpeggiation. Rich chording that reminded me of the end of the finale of Shostakovich’s Second Quartet gave way to shimmering harmonies, finishing on an unresolved suspension. A very satisfying piece without a trace of plinky-plonkery received earnest advocacy from the Calidore Quartet and earned a very enthusiastic reception from the Festival audience.

Op.59 No.2 speaks the same innovative musical language as No.1 but, with E-minor anxiety and a restless ever-turbulent mood in the mix (and in the right hands), the first movement sustains a heightened tension and a relentless forward momentum to the end. The Calidore Quartet are definitely the right hands. So full of contrapuntal fierceness with rhythmic and dynamic dislocation is the development, that when the recapitulation (that we originally found slightly disturbing) returns, it is almost as an old friend. It is a remarkable feature of chamber music playing at this level that 4 individual voices can “sing” with a unique shared vision. Fabulous. If the E-minor of the first movement is shot through with angst, the E major of the slow movement is laden with pathos and world-weary detachment, a refusal to confront grief. But it gets confronted nonetheless in a central climax, the tension having built inexorably with triplets steered by an unseen hand. Dramatic stuff, with perhaps a quantum of grudging solace at the end. The possibly apocryphal story behind the bizarre third movement has a ring of truth to it, to my ears at any rate. Count Razumovsky was delighted with the first quartet and the inclusion of a Russian theme. So he thought it would be helpful to hand Beethoven a manuscript of another, even more popular Russian tune for possible inclusion in the next quartet (no pressure). The famously touchy Beethoven bristled at the interference in his artistic freedom, but he did include it, only in a parodic way that trashed it. It does explain the grotesque travesty of a syncopated jerky E-minor minuet with displaced accents, enclosing an E-major trio that just repeats the tune over and over without modulation and with rambling triplets and quavers that refuse to harmonise logically with it. Hilarious, and I love it, but surely not a respectful setting for a beloved melody? Beethoven biting the hand that fed him. Not for the first time, or indeed the last. Characterfully performed. The finale presents itself as a gleeful cross-country equestrian romp in C major, but it is written in E-minor, a truer identity constantly being revealed, whether unmasked or self-asserted. Either way, it bowls along energetically, taking rough and smooth in its stride, with an element of “past caring”. It does end with a final E-minor dash which, if anything, seems to assert a certain gruff resilience. A great reading of Beethoven at peak chutzpah. Second violinist Ryan Meehan introduced the encore. Dedicated to the memory of the late Günter Pichler, leader of the Alban Berg Quartett from founding to disbanding and mentor to many of fine younger quartets that have come up in recent years, the Calidore Quartet performed the slow movement of Beethoven Op.74, a tender elegy in A-flat. Very lovely and moving.

So it was Opus13 (who had given a captivating account of Mendelssohn’s Beethoven-inspired A-minor on the second evening of the Festival) that took the evening concert with a programme that concluded with the Third Razumovsky. They opened their programme with another A-minor, Swedish composer Wilhelm Stenhammar’s 1909 Quartet No.4, dedicated to Sibelius. I have heard a couple of Stenhammar’s 6 numbered quartets live before (there was also an unnumbered one between Nos. 1 and 2) but do not recall hearing No.4 before. My father’s amateur string quartet had a set of parts for No.3, which they loved playing (a particularly delicious viola part apparently). No.4 is pure Late Romanticism, more like richly-scored Tchaikovsky, if the sound world of his 2nd Quartet were recast in a minor key, than the ruggedness of Sibelius. But the structural influence of Beethoven is really compelling and Opus13 made a lot of it. The first movement was a very dramatic sonata form, launched by a cascading cadenza. The second subject sounded the most Tchaikovskian, though the presence of additional tempestuous development in the recapitulation vied for that honour. The slow movement was exquisite, a sweet sinuous plaintive folk song over gently rocking rhythms. Folk influences were also evident in the sprightly, playful, energetic dancing of the Scherzo, with an equally gleeful central section in a fast 3. The finale, an ingenious theme-and-variations based on a Swedish folksong and intended as a homage to Beethoven, was captivating. With 10 variations and a coda, the variety of moods, time signatures, tempi, featured prominent instruments and rhythms was intriguing. A very persuasive and enjoyable outing for a fine piece of chamber music.

The Third Razumovsky “opens” (the verb seems too definite) with a mysterious, quite avant garde and tonally indeterminate slow introduction. The Allegro vivace “starts” before C-major is established, so the first violin wanders off rhapsodically in “search” of a melody. It appears from nowhere and it is gleeful, establishing a mood that lasts for the rest of the movement. The “searching” theme turns out to be rather important in the busy development, where every detail is obsessively analysed. Of the three Op.59 quartets, the 3rd has the only first movement that is pure fun and free of angst, and Opus13’s technical mastery made sure that was how we experienced it, right up to its whimsical accelerating coda. The “slow” movement is not at all slow and has a balladic narrative feel, perhaps a cautionary tale. Attention to dynamics and phrasing caught the shifting mood, which did adopt a spring in its step occasionally, but also visited very dark corners of the psyche with remote keys, cello pizzicato rarely releasing its grip on the forward pulse, right until the quiet spooky end. The graceful, lyrical but subdued minuet gave rather the impression of being on its best behaviour. The rather less strait-laced F-major Trio stretched its legs, and its wings. The prim minuet reprise led to a Coda, which sidled, with a wink of Beethovenian mischief, up to a dominant seventh. The viola set off like a rocket, attacca into the Allegro molto, a gleeful C-major fugal romp and a prime candidate for “Beethoven’s Happiest Finale”. It just bowls along merrily at breakneck speed with gay abandon, no part willing to be outdone in agility. The coda is too good to just play it once, so Beethoven engineers a false end and a pause, just so they can go at it again. “Hats in the air” stuff. Brilliant. The encore let our racing pulses return to ‘safe’ level with a lovely arrangement of an old Swedish folk tune, a somewhat wistfully sad one, “‘Song of the Birds’ meets Stenhammar” sort of thing, bringing ‘Razumovsky Day’ to a close.

Links:https://eastneukfestival.com/events/11-razumovsky-1/,
https://eastneukfestival.com/events/13-razumovsky-2/,
https://eastneukfestival.com/events/15-razumovsky-3/,
https://eastneukfestival.com/events/12-razumovsky-talk/

photo credit: Igor studio