Lento
String Quartet No. 15 in Eb minor, opus 144[a]; Schnittke: Piano Quintet[b].
Keller Quartett: András Keller (violin I), János Pilz (violin II), Zoltán Gál (viola), Judit Szabò (cello), Alexei Lubimov (piano)[b].
ECM New Series 1755. DDD. TT 65:02.
Recorded Propstei Sankt Gerold monastery, Austria, 20-22 June 2000[a]; Radio DRS, Zürich, 4-5 June 2000.

Shostakovich's most remote of quartets, the six-Adagio Fifteenth, provides the Keller Quartet with the perfect vehicle for their continuing ECM discography. With their trademark sound, an austere, glassy, almost medieval glow, combined with ECM's hallowed acoustic that exudes the atmosphere of hollow ancient cathedrals or starless arctic nights, this Budapest ensemble take Shostakovich's quasi-requiem to the limit, imbuing it with such an extravagance of stillness and quiet that it can be suffocating.

Before I continue, a word of warning: this disc is meant to be played loud. The louder, the better, lest you get left out in the cold as I was in my initial auditions. This is an intimate affair, unlike the raw and immediate recordings of the historic Taneyevs (Melodiya SUCD 11 00313; deleted) or Fitzwilliams (Decca 289455776-2), and it is captured with perhaps too much finesse for those of us who like our Shostakovich raw like a glass of Russian vodka neat. To appreciate the full power of the Keller Quartet's reading, crank up your amp and be prepared for a journey with a difference.

The entire work is taken in hushed, reverent tones from start to finish, giving the entire quartet a funereal glow. It is a fascinating approach, but one that may, for some, outstay its welcome, as it becomes, by the end, a singularly grim affair. Many other approaches work with this music, and I tire from the constant focus on death in a work where shades of life should also come into play. Listen to this performance a few more times and the Kellers do grow on you, revealing an interesting world of delicate nuances. In the long run, though, I still find the more humane approach of ensembles like the Shostakovich Quartet (Olympia OCD 534), who find a middle ground between minimal vibrato and passionate expression, easier to warm to.

The opening threnody is played almost entirely senza vibrato, an approach that the composer apparently favoured. The resulting effect is like a harmonium reverberating in an empty cathedral, a lone player intoning prayer in the stillness of solitude. It can be comforting, powerful, numbing, or disturbing, depending on your mood. What it lacks is real passion; there is an oppressive sense of detachment that the Keller hone into a rich language of its own.

The famous crescendo screams that usher in the Serenade don't quite have the impact of the more historic performances, but I believe the fault, if it is one, lies in the engineering. But even here, the Keller use their vibrato sparingly, contributing to the continued feeling of emotional distance.

The waltz is taken with mock tenderness and grace, a wan smile from beneath the weight of death that permeates the work. Against this, the violence of the thick chords are harrowing, as is the sudden intrusion of the cadenza in the Intermezzo. Again, comparing their approach with the Shostakovich Quartet finds the latter with a greater sense of irony and even humour, contrasting well with the violence of the pizzicato and multi-stopped chords.

The Nocturne succumbs to the deathly pall of the overall sound; again the harmonium tones and a stifling absence of vibrato start to disturb, so much so that the arrival of the Funeral March comes as a matter of course. However, towards the end (starting with the cello pizzicato) a moment of rare beauty reveals a fleeting moment of humanity that is deeply touching.

Sadly, such tender moments are few, and the Keller fail to make the most of the Epilogue, for while there is plenty of urgency in the flurry of notes, the overall sense of drama drawing to a conclusion is somewhat lacking. There is a final word here that is left unspoken - compare this with the Fitzwilliam Quartet, who give it a more palpable sense of arrival. For all their delicacy the Keller miss out on the textures that transport this final episode into the next world. The Quartet concludes as it begins; we have travelled but not moved.

Turning from this to a blood and guts performance like the Fitzwilliams', which has tough energy and passion in the face of death, one appreciates the composer's dying struggles as defiant and unresigned. The Keller Quartet do a remarkable job of characterising this closing chapter in Shostakovich's life with one of the nuances he is reported to have wanted, namely, to create a sound so stifling that flies would fall from the air. Yet there is much more to the score, and this issue is by no way definitive. Then again, the Fifteenth Quartet deserves an exploration such as the Keller have delivered, as it is a work that has yet seen exhaustive treatment. I would recommend a listen, especially since they could not have coupled it with a better companion than Schnittke's Quintet.

This work bears kinship with the Shostakovich in many ways, and it is a pity the Keller haven't applied in the Shostakovich the same sort of unbridled passion they unleash here. It is a nightmarish work built around a few bare-boned motifs. Getting right to the point, Schnittke reveals his theme from the start with an extended piano soliloquy on a strangely nostalgic motif oscillating around two adjacent semitones. A curious cascade of thirds hinting at Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, and a recurring tolling motif on the piano that resembles - probably out of pure coincidence - Shostakovich's own early Suite for Two Pianos, make up the building blocks of this Schnittkean trip through hell.

Out of an extensive exposition on these basic materials that swings between poignant lyricism and grating dissonance emerges a real surprise, a bittersweet waltz that instantly connects us with the pivotal waltz in Shostakovich's Opus 144. Here, though, Schnittke lets the demons loose, and the strings join in with a sickly soup of clashing semi and quarter tones that is to become a significant harmonic feature of this quintet.

As the work progresses, the tolling piano gains an upper hand, first from the dry bones of the upper register to the rich death knell of the deep timbres, while the strings shriek to disrupt the inexorable advance of time suggested by the piano. The duel between the two reaches a horrifying climax, and like the wheezing of a harmonium the work deflates into a Finale taken straight out of the closing bars of Shostakovich's Fourth Symphony or Babi Yar.

The piano takes on the tones of a celesta, playing bell-like arpeggios of child-like simplicity while the work unwinds into an uneasy major chord, evaporating into the night air like a moment's madness or a fleeting journey into the underworld. This fascinating odyssey through human suffering benefits from an excellent partnership between the Keller Quartet and pianist Alexei Lubimov. The latter's palette of colours and rich expression - especially in the bell sections - provide sparkles of illumination amidst the terrifying textures that the Keller create.

The Keller Quartet are noticeably more inspired in this opening work, plunging headlong into the maelstrom of emotions that Schnittke stirs up, emotions that for most part remain buried in permafrost in the Shostakovich. If you prefer the latter direct rather than elusive, this performance may leave you cold. However, the coupling puts both works into an interesting perspective that makes for compelling listening.

CH Loh
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