This superb recording of Brahms’s String Quintets features rich contrasts and playing open to risk from the gregarious Gringolts Quartet, says Jessica Duchen
Brahms
String Quintet No. 1 in F major; String Quintet No. 2 in G major
Lilli Maijala (viola); Gringolts Quartet
BIS BIS-2727 61:29 mins
Brahms’s two string quintets seem occasionally to lose out to the sheer popularity of his two early sextets. Both the former, in the format of Mozart’s string quintets with a second viola (as opposed to Schubert’s, with a second cello), are comparatively late works, dating respectively from 1883 and 1890.
That is reflected in the sophistication and subtlety of his writing: try the sleight-of-hand rhythms in the opening allegro of No. 1, the extraordinary harmonic malleability in its second movement, and the ceaseless textural inventiveness.
Although Brahms considered No. 1 perhaps his own finest work, No. 2 is the more extrovert and expansive piece, besides being longer, with four movements instead of three. Its echoes of Austrian folk music have led it sometimes to be nicknamed the ‘Prater’ Quintet, after the amusement park at the edge of Vienna, but it is no less irresistible for that.
Brahms, in his late fifties, is at his earthiest and sounds as if he was having the time of his life. After its premiere, the composer felt he had achieved enough and could now look forward to a carefree retirement from composition. (Fortunately for us, he encountered shortly afterwards the clarinet playing of Richard Mühlfeld and the rest is history.)
In this superb recording, the Gringolts Quartet – Ilya Gringolts and Anahit Kurtikyan (violins), Silvia Simionescu (viola) and Claudius Herrmann (cello) – and violist Lilli Maijala do the quintets proud, with a passionate, committed account that seems to employ 360 degrees of expressive technique.
There’s a wealth of characterisation within this richly unified, bronze-dark ensemble. A deep-dug, chunky tone, often quite rugged, is offset by moments of intense sweetness, as well as great delicacy and refinement.
Besides being beautifully balanced and transparent, some of the softest passages acquire an ‘innigkeit’ (introspection) that can make you hold your breath. One example is the end of No. 1’s second movement, which is phenomenal; the detail and care that this playing involves is something inspiring.
The five players use portamento and vibrato, and sometimes the lack of it, for colour and character, which is an ideal approach. It is only in one or two places that the under-use of vibrato produces a sound that is maybe a little bit too rough for its melodic purposes – the first movement of No. 2, for instance, has a fair bit of that.
In some ways, this can be an acquired taste; yet the advantage is that you never feel they are playing it safe. They take sometimes extreme risks – and oftener than not, it works.
Most pleasing of all is that this multifaceted, technicolour playing brings out the best in Brahms by never chasing mere effect or turning to shouty exaggeration (which has become widespread and remains one of my pet loathings; it’s the musical equivalent of writing in capital letters).
Everything relates to the composer’s purpose; and the sense of structure, articulated by the different personalities of the various themes, is a firm interpretative base throughout, brought into relief by the ensemble’s attentive colouring. Their wealth of expression is further enhanced by the superb, warm and clear recorded sound.
Incidentally, the cellist Claudius Herrmann is playing a Maggini of 1600 which was owned by Prince Galitsin and used in the premiere of some of Beethoven’s last quartets. It is a slightly mind-boggling thought – and it sounds gorgeous. Jessica Duchen