Mendelssohn’s Quartet in F minor is one of his very greatest works in any medium, and arguably the masterpiece of his last years. Like the Schubert Quintet in C, it was published posthumously, which accounts for the ridiculous nickname given this disc, “Epilogue”, which suggests some sort of afterthought or appendix and that certainly does no justice whatsoever to the urgency and immediacy of two superb performances. Indeed, the album title is just about the only thing I have to quibble about. The Mendelssohn receives an absolutely stellar performance, with a thrilling first movement whose rhythmic energy is only matched by the perfection of intonation and ensemble. The group melts into the Adagio, the emotional heart of the piece, with real (uncharacteristically, for Mendelssohn) Romantic ardor, hitting the crunching dissonances in the finale like the bombs supposedly falling in the fourth movement of Shostakovich’s Eighth Quartet.
If the Miró Quartet opens the disc with what amounts to a clinic in fine chamber music playing, then guest cellist Matt Haimovitz rises to the challenge, integrating himself perfectly into the group by offering an equally fine account of Schubert’s epic quintet. This is one of those works so rich in possibilities that it’s foolish to speak of a single “best” version–but this account features several outstanding qualities that single it out for special mention. First, there is the treatment of the opening movement’s famous second subject, the initial cello duet the merest whisper of melody, blossoming out more fully when the violins take it up immediately thereafter. It’s a breathtaking moment, made all the more affecting for the otherwise firmly propulsive treatment of the movement’s more vigorous passages.
The ensuing Adagio either can sound sublime or deader than the Sahara in summer, and here the players manage an excellent balance between the music’s hypnotic opening theme and its subsequent passionate outbursts. Even the pizzicatos have a rich, bell-like quality, and the basic ensemble sonority is a source of joy all by itself. This account of the scherzo is simply one of the finest ever committed to disc, full of the thrill of the hunt and richly textured, but never excessively abrasive or crude (as often happens). Top it off with a finale that opens at an ideal tempo and (like the Mendelssohn) builds to an almost terrifying conclusion, and the result is simply a glorious chamber music disc, as warmly and realistically recorded as the performances obviously deserve. Having made a reputation for itself in contemporary works such as Crumb’s Black Angels (on Bridge), it’s great to see the Miró Quartet throwing down the gauntlet in more standard fare and emerging triumphant. Haimovitz similarly has yet to make a finer showing in chamber music. Fabulous!
