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Parker Quartet / Kim Kashkashian: György Kurtág / Antonín Dvorák However much György Kurtág and Antonín Dvorák might seem strange bedfellows, their pairing on the Parker Quartet's ECM New series debut works to their mutual advantage. Offsetting the concision and austerity of two string quartets by Kurtág—his fourth, Six moments musicaux (2005), and third, Officium breve in memoriam Andreae Szervánszky (1988/89)—is the melodic expressiveness of Dvorák's String Quintet No. 3 (1893). That the former composer boasts an “extremely narrow, concentrated catalogue of works” (characterized by Paul Griffiths in liner notes) and the latter an abundant, genres-spanning oeuvre accentuates the contrast between the composers even more. Adding to the allure of the Dvorák treatment, the Parker Quartet, founded in Boston in 2002, is joined by Kim Kashkashian, an early mentor of the group, who plays the second viola part. The third string quartet is but one of many chamber works he created, with fourteen of the thirty-one written for string quartet and the rest for quintets, tercets, and others. The Kurtág performances naturally benefit from the fact that quartet members Daniel Chong and Ken Hamao (violins), Jessica Bodner (viola), and Kee-Hyun Kim (cello) have worked extensively with the Hungarian composer and have thereby developed an inordinately advanced sensitivity to his idiosyncratic soundworld. “Invocatio [un fragment],” the title of the opening movement in Six moments musicaux, is apt in affirming its welcoming character and emphasizing its brevity; it also, not insignificantly, immediately establishes the identifying character of Kurtág's music. It's hard to resist hearing the tentative statements by the strings and the pauses separating them as footsteps of sorts when the second movement's called “Footfalls ... mintha valaki jönne …,” its title deriving in part from a Samuel Beckett play. After the rapid interactions of the fleeting “Capriccio” comes “In memoriam Sebõk György,” written in memory of the Hungarian pianist and teacher and a crystallization of Kurtág's style in a slow movement form. In contrast to its heartfelt tone, “Rappel des oiseaux... [Étude pour les harmoniques]” presents a lively ‘birdsong' movement that pays unspoken homage to Messiaen and lives up to its ‘study in harmonics' subtitle. Pushing the concision principle to a greater extreme is Officium breve in memoriam Andreae Szervánszky, whose fifteen movements range from twenty-one seconds to 2:39. About working directly with Kurtág on a piece, the Parker Quartet has written, “Every note, every silence, every music interaction was there for a reason,” and the same impression forms whilst listening to Officium breve when silence and dynamics are as central to it as structural form. The title references Szervánszky (1911-77), a composer who “protected Kurtág through difficult times” (Griffith's words), but the work includes memorials to other figures too. Consequently, the tone is generally more solemn than Six moments musicaux and the character often subdued and serene, a few violent disruptions aside. Though the finale is characteristically short at 1:14, it registers powerfully as a poignant resolution. At the recording's centre is Dvorák's four-movement String Quintet No. 3, written in America in the same year as the New World Symphony and abundant in folk melodies. The charm of the opening “Allegro non tanto” captivates, and the carefree tone and rhythmic buoyancy of what follows proves as inviting. Even more jubilant is the sweetly melodic scherzo, which dances nimbly for six minutes before handing off to a graceful slow movement . The sunny mood of the opening part returns for a finale that's as irresistible for the folk-sweetened radiance of its melodies. In contrast to the extreme concision of the Kurtág movements, Dvorák's four elaborate extensively on their respective themes, the total performance in this case weighing in at thirty-four minutes. Of the two composers, it's Kurtág whose sensibility aligns more seamlessly to the chamber music format given the intimacy and meticulousness to which it lends itself. Specific aspects of his compositional style—the scrupulous elimination of all but the most necessary details and focus on small gestures, fragments, and phrases—are tailor-made for the stripped-down character of the string quartet genre. For these reasons and more, Anton Webern naturally springs to mind as a kindred spirit to Kurtág. How fitting it is, then, that three parts within Officium breve are refractions of the concluding movement of Webern's final work, the Second Cantata, Op. 31 (1941-43).January 2022 |