Edgar Meyer shines bright with the Dover Quartet

Edgar Meyer

Monday July 22 saw the great contrabassist Edgar Meyer join the Dover Quartet for a spectacular performance going into the final week of the CMNW Summer Festival. The program featured works by Bach, Brahms and a composition of Meyer's own.

Sonata No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1027 (in this case played by Katie Hyun on violin, Camden Shaw cello and Edgar Meyer on contrabass) opened the everning. It was fascinating to hear the sonata without a continuo as one thinks of it, but with two independent melodic instruments forming the support for the violin.

Meyer found the most dulcet timbre imaginable on his intrument. All three performers were able to bring pitch-perfect accuracy to the most dissonant and abstruse harmonic developments, as surely as if it were a 3-voice fugue played on a clavier. Meyer's ceaselessly gentle yet insistent mezzo-staccato was a thing of beauty. In the finale the pizzicato from the bass was so delicately and intuitively phrased--the perfect symmetry and balance cannot be overstated.

The approachable complexity of the composition required that all three perform at an equally high level to properly realize it, and the result was elegant, energetic and indescribably lovely. Absolutely everything that is best and most beautiful about baroque chamber music was present in this small ensemble.

Meyer's String Quintet (1995) opened with a gossamer Appalachian reverie. Consisting of the Dover Quartet plus Meyer, the texture was incredibly full-throated while still being gentle.  As the movement morphed into a more somber rallentando, Meyer sawed away in what could only be described as a rally into a hoe-down, and the group thundered together in primitive chordal phrases.

The second movement started as a funky blues tune, with both bass and cello having at it. Eerie sul ponticello wails from the violins presented a disturbing emotional counterpoint to the grooviness going on elsewhere. At one point Meyer had the bass neighing like a horse. The quirky, personalized nature of the composition was always present.

 In the third, viola and cello played in chilling unison while strange, warped glissandi from the bass interrupted the plaintive monodic somnolence. The finale began with ceaseless trills and tremolandi, while ominous, syncopated pedal point grumbling from Meyer lay underneath. The entire work seemed, from a technical standpoint, a loving and intensely fascinating study into the textures and effects of a string ensemble employing jazz, blues and bluegrass idioms.

Brahms String Quintet in G Major, Op 3, formed the second half of the evening. This time it was the Dover Quartet plus Paul Neubauer on the extra viola. The glorious sawing from Shaw on his cello was accompanied by a strident molto vibrato from all, forming a vision of pure fire and passion. Mysterious and subdued, the players all carefully held back in the second movement, lending a feeling of quiet tension, like a coiled spring. The poco allegretto played like a grandiose serenade. It is fascinating how the addition of one more bowed instrument, of whatever kind, transforms the sonic possibilities of a string quartet from a chamber ensemble to that of what is essentially a small string orchestra. The amazing ensemble playing displayed a deep and intimate understanding not only of how he or she could sound, but of how they could and should sound. The Dover Quartet has never disappointed in all the times I've seen them, and this was no exception.

CMNW's July 15 matinee was a peripatetic delight

Benjamin Lulich

The program presented on Sunday July 15 at the Lincoln Performance Hall as part of the Chamber Music Northwest summer festival was a rich repast featuring works from the most spare, stripped-down solo work to sumptuous sound walls from an eclectic barrage of instruments.

Clarinettist Benjamin Lulich played Stravinsky's Three Pieces for Solo Clarinet to open the program. The rich, woody timbre he employed in the opening, and the weight of importance placed on each individual note lent the air of a self-conscious, mildly sad threnody with a long, slow, riveting decrescendo al niente at the end. The finale felt like a slightly wonky klezmer tune, marvelously short, sweet and delicious, like a musical petit fours. Flutist Ransom Wilson followed this with Debussy's iconic Syrinx for solo flute, playing with a sinuous, serpentine clarity of line and skillful manipulation, varying timbre even across individual notes.

Jean Cartan's (1906-1932)  Sonatine for Flute and Clarinet was next, as Wilson and Lulich joined forces for a Pastorale that opened as curious ricercar followed by a murmuring accompagnato for flute, and there were fascinating times when the duo managed to sound like two flutes, or even two clarinets. The Berceuse was characterized by a warm, buttery 4-note ostinato from the clarinet, and they reveled in the dissonant cadences of the Rondeau.

Jacques Ibert's Suite from Le jardiniere de Samos saw the woodwind players joined by Mikio Sasaki on trumpet, Jennifer Frautschi on violin, Mihai Marica on cello, and percussionist Ian David Rosenbaum.Highlights from the Ibert included Frautschi's dancing, 2-note saltando chords in the Air de danse, the 3-voiced fugue with delightfully bouncy entrances, and the incredible efficacy of the ensemble playing in bringing out the highlights from amongst a welter of interweaving lines.

Stravinsky's Suite from L'histoire du soldat comprised the second half of the afternoon, and for it the Ibert ensemble (minus cello and flute) were joined by Charles Reneau on trombone, Peter Lloyd on bass, and  bassoonist Julie Feves, who also provided a delightful narrative of the tale before the music started.

Jennifer Frautschi

In the opening movement Lloyd's staccato was so biting that at times it sounded like a pizzicato. Frautschi's double-stopped air in the second movement was truly engaging, and the lines were tossed so seamlessly between bassoon and trombone it was sometimes difficult to tell where one instrument ended and the other began. The Pastorale was played as a sad and evocative duet between bassoon and clarinet. The wild and wonderful staccato trumpet theme from the Royal March was another highlight, and during the Three Dances Frautschi played a languorous tango, redolent with mystery, and a slow and staggering ragtime. The Grand Choral was appropriately reverent, and the group rendered it like the odd modern cousin of a chorale at the outset of a Bach cantata.

Such incredible variety over a short concert (perhaps an hour's worth of music) is one reason why CMNW is such an important part of the region's cultural landscape, and further is an example of the ingenuity of the programming.

CMNW presents Mozart and a surprising Surprise by Haydn

Tuesday July 18th saw the Chamber Music Northwest Summer Festival present performances by the Brentano and Calidore String Quartets, and guest musicians as well. The concert at the performance space in Portland State's Lincoln Hall consisted of works by Mozart and Haydn.

Mozart's Quartet for Flute and Strings in C Major, K 285b, opened the first half. Tara Helen O'Connor was the flutist, playing together with Mark Steinberg, violin, Misha Amory, viola, and Nina Lee, cello, all members of the Brentano Quartet. O'Connor played in a classic, dulcet Mozartian timbre, varying her sound and bringing out a husky aspiration in the lower register.  Crisp and spritely, O'Connor navigated her way through tricky sections with amazingly agile octave jumps. As an ensemble the group played with an incredibly light and airy blend, yet always with respect for the integrity of the composition. Lee took front and center in the Andantino with soaring bass lines, and Amory played the marvelous solo lines for the viola with a delicate poco saltando.

The String Quartet No 16 in E-flat Major, K 428 was next, and Serena Canin joined on violin. There were interaction issues on the more sparse, thinner passages; the playing felt almost too polite at times. The phrasing and dynamic shifts were somewhat predictable, and pitchiness kept cropping up as an issue. During the final allegro vivace the group rallied for a powerful, exuberant attack, and the phrasing became more engaging.

The second half saw the Calidore Quartet (Jeffrey Myers and Ryan Meehan violin, Jeremy Berry, viola, and Estelle Choi, cello) joined by O'Connor and Andrea Lam on piano, to present a scaled-down version by Johann Peter Salomon of Haydn's Symphony in G Major, Hob I:94 'Surprise.' 

There was clear and concise execution from the first violin in the Andante, and a mellifluous cantabile.  In the Allegro Molto the violins balanced perfectly during the counterpoint, and throughout O'Connor continued to impress by balancing numerous roles--whether as soloist, accentuator, or stand-in for the entire wind band, she was always in control, keenly aware of the tricky place she occupied however rapidly the roles shifted. 

It was fascinating to hear this chestnut stripped down to such a spare ensemble. The group did not make the mistake of trying to convince the audience that they were a full-sized orchestra for this work--rather the impression they imparted was that just maybe this work was composed for a small chamber ensemble, and a fine and accurate impression it was. 

Emerson Quartet delivers triumphant Shostakovich and Beethoven at CMNW

The Emerson String Quartet
Photo by Lisa Mazzucco

Sunday, July 9 at the PSU's Lincoln Performance Hall saw the world-renowned Emerson Quartet present a spectacular and varied concert featuring works by Purcell, Beethoven and Shostakovich. This year's artists-in-residence for Chamber Music Northwest, the Emerson Quartet (Eugene Drucker and Philip Setzer, violins, Lawrence Dutton, viola, and Paul Watkins, cello) showed once again why they are among the best of the best, and how fortunate CMNW is to have such a prestigious ensemble as
artists-in-residence for an entire year.

Opening each half were two short fantasias by Henry Purcell, No. 8 in D Minor, Z. 739 to start the concert, and No. 11 in G Major, Z. 742 in the second half. Originally written for viols, in the first fantasia the group presented a fascinating study in timbre, as the group played with an extremely light and delicate bow such that at times, with one's eyes closed it was easy to imagine listening to a chest of viols. The G Major contained wistful, dreamy baroque melodies, and both were over almost as soon as they began.

Shostakovich's famous String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 110, provided the meat of the first half. In this piece there is so much 'air,' compared to a structurally denser work such as the Beethoven, and the Emerson Quartet used this to spectacular effect. The early threnody by the first violin over a long, sustained chord from the other instruments was a great example of this: subdued, yet full of color. This tribute to the victims of war gave the impression of a nameless ghost from a nameless atrocity, one among millions, wandering, lost.  The ferocity of the attaca into the Allegro Molto was terrifying, transforming into a ceaseless energico, the main theme bandied back and forth with each performer offering something new. An almost gay dance of the dead gave way to a sadness beyond tears, a bone weary exhaustion, like death by slow heartbreak. The brief cloud break late in the work was surrounded again by a thunder that was never far off.

Beethoven's titanic String Quartet in C-sharp Minor, Op. 131 provided a distinct contrast from the Shostakovich, and displayed the depth that the Emerson is known for. Keen insight and judicious restraint, accompanied by downright explosive oubursts, yielded incredible passion. As a listener, to almost forget that music is being played, and is not something that simply exists in and of itself is an incredible experience. The Emerson quartet forged such a tight synchronization that at times it felt like one instrument. There were many great moments, from the sublime melody by the first violinist in the Allegro Moderato to a comical molto pizzicato that had the audience giggling, to snatches of melody from the viola that cried out ferociously and then as suddenly subsided. As the work progressed they somehow kept eliciting more and more and more sound, yet with no loss of quality, and still even the most whispering pianissimo was as rich in timbre as anything. During the galloping Presto the rapidity of the dynamic shifts and coordination of the infinitesimally delicate filigree was absolutely stunning. The Emerson Quartet's incredible range of timbres, colors, emotions and technique was put to the full test in this ambitious program, and no one in the audience was left wanting for anything.

Northern Lights: Scandinavian Gems lives up to its billing

The fruits of composer David Schiff's skills as an arranger were evident on Thursday, July 21st as the Chamber Music Northwest Summer Festival continued. Kaul Auditorium was the perfect acoustical space for an evening of Scandinavian composers as the program Northern Lights: Scandinavian Gems took place.

Opening the evening was a brace of works by Carl Nielsen, beginning with Serenata in vano, a work like all the works of the evening for strings and winds. This work began with a rhythmically intense three-quarter time signature dissolving into languid arias for horn and clarinet.  Exciting annunciations from the contrabass came to the forefront as the extremely well-balanced wind section swelled and receded, leaving the air cleared for exciting, razor-accurate doublings between horn and bassoon. Like much of the evening it was redolent with the richness of the Fenno-Scandia folk tradition, and was over too soon.

David Shifrin had another chance to shine as Nielsen's Clarinet Concerto, Op. 57 was next. This brilliant work opened with a crisp fughetta, one which Shifrin infused with electricity, and a rich, throaty sound from the basso register of his instument. The texture was widely varied...at times Shifrin was mysterious and unhurried, other times the strings spun a glorious web upon which Shifrin went spidering along, and there were great moments from William Purvis on the solo horn as well. Shifrin's playing felt like storytelling as he navigated the ever-shifting shoals with his usual grace and dexterity.

After intermission the audience was treated to the ever-popular Peer Gynt Suites, arranged for a 13-piece orchestra by Schiff.   It was an interesting dichotomy to see such a large orchestra (for this festival) on stage as Schiff spoke a bit on the challenges of boiling down these huge orchestral pieces for such (relatively) spare ornamentation. Seven of the eight movements from both suites were on the bill; Peer Gynt's Homecoming presented too large a task for the composer vis-a-vis the need for such radical reductions in the number of instruments he had to work with.

The order of presentation was different as well, so it was fun to hear these movements juxtaposed in an unfamiliar manner. Beginning with the Death of Ase, the theme shifted from primarily winds to the strings, a nice subtle change of color. It retained most of the gravitas of the full orchestral work. For Morning Mood, the sonority of all those winds didn't quite work...at times it felt a bit hokey for Grieg's grand gesture, though it was fun to watch the string players standing in bravely for an entire section. Anitra's Dance featured brilliant solo work from Matt Landry who throughout the work shifted between a number of different saxophones. Theodore Arm's solo work also stood out as particularly fine.

The Abduction of the Bride held a fascinating sonance; the winds constantly uplifting the small string band almost felt like human voices somewhere in the background. The Arabian Dance and Solveig's Song were truly delightful, especially the latter. What a joy it was to hear such necessarily sparse scoring--every single player had to be completely on top of their game or all would have been lost. Percussionist Jonathan Greeney deserves high praise for his performance, which was nothing short of heroic at times. And finishing off with In the Hall of the Mountain King? Well, how could you go wrong? Schiff's arrangement was fascinating, fun and inspired, and was a wonderful new way to hear such beloved old gems.

The Dover Quartet and David Shifrin deliver in an outstanding CMNW program

Richard Danielpour

Thursday July 14 at the Kaul Auditorium saw the kind of performance one expects from Chamber Music Northwest's Summer Festival: poised, professional, and artistically sublime. Featuring the Dover Quartet and David Shifrin on clarinet, and including a world premier by renowned composer Richard Danielpour, the program was varied and delightful.

The evening opened with Beethoven's String Quartet in E-flat Major ("Harp") Op. 74 with just the string quartet: Joel Link and Bryan Lee on violin, Milena Pajaro-van-de-Stadt viola, and Camden Shaw, cello. Immediately apparent was a rich and wonderful uniformity of pitch, timbre, and timing, highlighted by a marvelously deft 'code-switching' (to borrow a linguistic term) between the numerous pizzicato and arco motives as they were handed off between instruments. With a soaring sense of purpose, the young players achieved as fulsome a sound as one could hope to hear.

Moving into the Adagio the music became a seamless pulse, an ebb and flow like an earth tide almost imperceptibly shifting the ground beneath your feet. The group exhibited a justified self-assurance--the notes were so spot on and well-executed that all technical considerations were second-nature, and all could be devoted to a deeply thoughtful rendering of the spirit of the work. Shaw played the brief, ubiquitious half-measure-or-so exposed cello coda of the Allegretto sublimely, with the cooperation of the rest of the players who graciously stepped aside time and again so the charming subito pianissimo motive could be heard. Pajaro-van-de-Stadt's viola solo was affecting and direct, and the smooth handing off of pedal points between all four voices was great fun to hear.  I found myself given to involuntary smiles and chuckles for sheer delight, gloriously basking in this wonderful sea of sound.

Shifrin joined the group for the world premiere of Richard Danielpour's Clarinet Quintet, mysteriously subtitled by the composer "The Last Jew in Hamadan." The composer was on hand for the performance, and explained that his father was born in Hamadan, Iran, a city that once had a vibrant Jewish community (indeed it is reputed to be the burial place of the biblical Queen Esther) but was predicted by one writer to have only one Jew left in the city by the year 2020.

It opened with a sparking, culturally rich clarinet theme that cut through a charging agitato from the strings (Agitato con energia was the marking for the movement) with its rapid-fire melody and occasional squawks and honks. It was suggestive of a bustling, hurried life--perhaps unquiet but fascinating and lovely. Short, expressive phrases kept popping out here and there, Shifrin playing masterfully as always this ceaseless, frothing soundscape.

The Adagietto e triste began with a plaintive dirge from the clarinet over a hurdy-gurdy sound from the strings. Sinuous and melancholy--but somehow hopeful, not defeatist--it wound its way toward a fascinating tutti on one pitch, with the clarinet adding a daring color to the whole effect. Haunting doublings and dramatic seizures were hallmarks of the movement. It was a fine, original piece, and well worth a world premier at such a great festival.

The second half of the evening consisted entirely of the Clarinet Quintet in B-flat Major, Op. 34, by Carl Maria von Weber.  A liquid descending scale from the clarinet kicked it off.  There was a hilarious squawking high note delivered with what can only be described as comedic timing by Shifrin. A somewhat ungainly but not wholly unlovable first movement--what dramatic and contrasting stuff.

As the work moved on the group was able to make the most out of a work full of emotional moments but with a dearth of narrative cohesion--this would've been dull in lesser hands, but the skill of the musicians was such that they molded it into something worth hearing--a fine showcase for Shifrin that was capped off by a truly virtuosic finale.

CMNW's 'Schubert's Trout' concert keeps the Festival momentum going

Abigail Fischer.

Chamber Music Northwest's Summer Festival continued Thursday, July 10 at the Kaul Auditorium. The concert, Schubert's "Trout", took its title from the second half, which opened with Schubert's lied Die Forelle (The Trout), followed by the famous "Trout" Quintet, which took its name from the fact that the theme from the lied was used as the basis for the tema con variazioni of the fourth movement. But first it opened with three vocal presentations programmed around the vocal prowess of mezzo-soprano Abigail Fischer, who stood in at the last moment for Sasha Cooke, the intended singer who was out with an illness.

 The opening work, J.S. Bach's Vergnügte Ruh, beliebte Seelenlust from Cantata No. 170, saw Fischer joined by Allan Vogel (oboe d'amore), Steven Copes and Bella Hristova (violin), Paul Neubauer (viola), Peter Wiley (cello), Samuel Suggs (double bass) and Daniel Schlosberg (harpsichord).  The logistics presented problems from the first. Fischer was standing at the back of a 7-piece orchestra playing modern instruments, and so her voice often had trouble cutting through the texture of the chamber players. Perhaps this arrangement would've worked with a gut-strung HIP orchestra, but it was unsatisfactory as presented: too often her sound was swallowed. 18th-century composer and lexicographer Johann Mattheson nailed it when he is reputed to have said: "The singers must stand alltime in front."

Mozart's Parto, parto, ma tu ben mio, an aria extracted from Clemenza di Tito for mezzo, clarinet obbligato and piano quartet followed, and the same logistical arrangement was used. Schlosberg switched to piano, and Hristova was the only violinist. David Shifrin was a delight; if there's anything finer than Mozart played on the clarinet by someone who really knows his instrument--well that would be something indeed to hear. He was in not so much of a dialogue with Fischer as a role of running commentary. Fischer, possessed of an undoubtedly fine instrument, came across at times as disinterested, and so was I for parts of this piece. One must I suppose give the benefit of the doubt; standing in on such difficult music with who-knows-how much notice can't be easy even for a top-notch performer. Towards the end she seemed to come more alive; her flourishes and cadenzas were actually quite spectacular and she had bedazzled the audience by the end of the Mozart.

The newly commissioned piece Crossroads (commissioned by CMNW and a multitude of other entities) by American composer John Harbison (b 1938) was like an entirely new world. The poetry of Louise Glück was featured, and set to the music of five strings (Hristova, Copes, Neubauer, Wiley and Suggs) and oboe (Vogel). The absence of a keyboard instrument was somehow bracing, and it began with a simple yet intriguing and profound opening statement from the strings, like a harbinger. The first movement, Twilight was a still-life, and there was much humor to be found in the text. Telling the story of a millworker dreaming at an evening table at dusk, Fischer's intensity and complete engagement with the text was spellbinding; each nuance and subtle turn of phrase was impeccably executed; Fischer seemed to inhabit the constantly changing emotional spaces. There was no straining to become involved with and completely subsumed by the story at hand. Harbison's textual underlay was fascinating; set off just enough from the accompaniment at times, it was constantly fresh, and both propelled the story and created space for the diction. A dissonant final soliloquy for the oboe seemed odd and disjointed, but in the context of the second movement, Primavera, it suddenly made perfect sense.

Primavera was like a misnomer in some ways, or a dichotomy. A high harmonic squawking from the strings programmed the scene: "the warm air fills with bird calls..." This movement seemed a naturalistic interpretation of life; even in the glories of spring it spoke of an end to all things, and the dissonant clarinet from the end of the previous movement felt like a foreshadowing. The music gloried in the transience of life rather than seeking to hide from it or become fearful of the inevitable end. The strings were not just an accompaniment to Fischer's recountal, but an equal partner in imparting meaning. The final movement, Crossroads, is really about the crossroads between life and death. Exactly the opposite of the story in the Bach cantata--here the music moves into atonality at the bitter end, not in trepidation of what comes after...but really the end doesn't have to be so bitter after all.

Die Forelle, (D. 550, Op. 32) a quick study into the life and death of a trout, was an oddly appropriate accompaniment to the Harbison, and presaged the "Trout" Quintet (D667, Op. 11) to follow. Neubauer, Wiley, Suggs and Copes were joined by Anna Polonsky on piano. These festival favorites dove into the chestnut with gusto. Polonsky in particular seems to have an innate ability to discern and perfectly execute the role of her instrument. The ensemble playing was spectacular, in addition to the individual fireworks. Copes displayed a spritely, rapid-fire saltando in the third movement, and Wiley and Suggs anchored the work nicely without being overpowering. It's a joy to hear Wiley--whatever he brings to the table is always fine. There was no grasping for glory by any performers; simply a purely professional and profoundly artistic ability to work with what was there at any given moment. The variations on the Trout theme in the fourth movement were spectacular; especially fun and satisfying was the sturm und drang variation, which fooled a knowledgeable audience into applauding a bit before it was time--much to the amusement of performers and audience alike.

Edgar Meyer and Mike Marshall blow the barn doors off of CMNW

No more introduction is needed than this: on Thursday night July 3 at Kaul Auditorium  the world's (almost inarguably) greatest double bass player and one of its foremost mandolin stylists teamed up for a (mostly) two-man concert. Edgar Meyer and Mike Marshall delivered a program heavy on Americana in honor of our nation's holiday, and the product was every bit as good as one would expect.

Featuring a roving, constantly shifting set list--neither Marshall nor Meyer seemed entirely sure of what order they played their songs, nor indeed at times of what they actually played--these two roamed through old favorites and new original compositions. Opening with a hornpipe with scintillating mandolin over a peripatetic bass line, the duo warmed into it immediately and then really began to swing.  Meyer displayed every trick in the book: pizzicato bass lines in which he slapped strings with his fingers for percussive effect, drawn out sawing with his bow, and despite the technical fireworks his balance with Marshall was perfect--it would've been so easy for him do drown out the delicate filigree from Marshall's instrument, but his sense of unity was perfect.

The first set featured their own tunes called Green Slime and Pickles, a rhythmic yet oddly free-form piece centered around a deep blues theme on the mandolin. Another piece featured melancholy, moto perpetuo bass motives that switched in color and character--arco, pizzicato, arco--Meyer switched back and forth in between phrases while Marshall played a clean, sparkling descant over the deeps of Meyer's themes, as the two wandered in what strange and far-flung modal shores, personifying the metaphor of music as journey.

They switched to another tune, Meyer swinging and honking at the top of the fingerboard in an extremely funky root motive. Rhythmic solidarity between the two were the watchwords of the evening, which made the side-trips into polyrhythms all the more enjoyable.  Sitting there listening, I wondered what it would be like to attain such mastery over a medium as to have complete freedom to soar like an albatross over a shining sea. Lacking both the innate artistry and titanic discipline to achieve such heights, all I can do is dream indeed, but hearing a concert by virtuosi such as these was better than any dream.

In the second half, featuring more original compositions such as Flight of the Fly and Please Don't, they broke new ground, Meyer wailing away on rapidly shifting open fifths, like power chords on heavy metal guitar. They played a folk/Americana medley, with Whiskey Before Breakfast and The Middle Passage among the offerings. They were joined by Meyer's son George on the fiddle for Temperance Reel and other tunes. George Meyer and Marshall played some spectacularly precise and intricate doublings during this set. Marshall switched to the mandola for a tune called Looper, showing intricate melodic interplay between instruments as well as humrous stop tempos. They closed with an Appalachian-feeling tune called Early Morning, and finally with an unbelievably lively Bulgarian dance tune.

Chamber Music Northwest always brings incredible artists to Portland, but to say they outdid themselves last Thursday night would be an understatement. It was a joy to hear such artistry, and to see two such masters who still, after all is said and done, seem not to take themselves too seriously. It seemed that for them this music was about having fun and being alive, and if music isn't good for that then I quit.

Miró Quartet delivers a nuanced, subtle evening of Beethoven

The Miró Quartet. Photo by Jim Leisy.

The Miró Quartet undertook a feat that was near Herculean in magnitude on Thursday, July 11, when they performed all three of the Opus 59 String Quartets by Beethoven, the famous 'Razumovsky' quartets. The performance took place at Kaul Auditorium on the Reed College campus, as part of Chamber Music Northwest's Summer Festival. These pieces, which marked a striking new direction in the genre, are demanding both technically and emotionally, and to perform them all in one sitting was a work of determination and fortitude.

These players (Daniel Ching and William Fedkenheuer, violin, John Largess, viola, and Joshua Gindele, cello)  gave a performance that was marked by restraint, and that is using the word in its best sense. Such restraint was necessary to perform this lengthy concert of works that range all over the emotional and spiritual map: too much of a thing, at any given moment, and the balance would be all wrong. By the same token timidity when boldness was called for would yield a similarly dissatisfying result, and the Miró Quartet found the perfect equilibrium.

Throughout the works there were so many entrances that required delicacy of phrasing yet metronomic precision of timing for the effect to be pulled off properly, and there was not one entrance in an entire long evening of demanding entrances that was anything other than exactly what was called for. It would, even for top-notch performers, have been easy to become lost at certain points in the bewildering forest that constitutes these works, yet utter surety was a hallmark of the evening.  There were so many varying textures spread throughout, from surpising and modern-sounding sparseness to hammering monophony, filigreed counterpoint to waltzing scherzos, and the Miró Quartet never let a chance pass to highlight any of these differences. Their dynamic phrasing was exquisite...when an evening is marked by the restraint that they displayed, a giant range of emotional possibilities grows to the point where it feels almost infinite...every crescendo or decrescendo was imbued with meaning and lent this sense of limitless scope.

Some particularly memorable moments included the third movement of the titanic Op. 59 No. 1 quartet, wherein Ching's solo seemed to materialize inexorably and repeatedly from deep water, only to be subsumed again and then reappear a moment later in a slightly altered form, and then finally to hang there in a fragile, almost frail trill that was the only link between this and the sudden bold attacca into the bracing finale. In the opening of the No. 2 quartet, Ching showed he was capable of acrobatic, almost avian articulation. The Allegretto of this quartet was manic, spritely and intricate; well-navigated, it felt like candor, like a frank expression of the idea at hand and then come what may. The hectic tempo of the famous Presto of this work was as fast as I've ever heard it; the only unfortunate side effect of this was that some of the more delicate melodic material was blurred or obscured at this pace. In the third quartet, the variation in the fierce, pulsating rhythm of the opening movement was exhiliarating, and during the second movement Gindele played his pizzicato section with an unabashed, almost alarming plunk!

It is no surprise that the Miró Quartet is capable of delivering this kind of performance, but the fact that they actually did so is another thing entirely; capability and actuality are often two different things, but in this case the group gave as magnificent a perfect performance as one could want on a musical topic of such depth and variety. Every year CMNW brings such top-notch talent to town that one runs out of superlatives when trying to relate the experience of a performance, but that's not a bad thing.