The Jerusalem Quartet took the Celebrity Series Jordan Hall audience on an exhilarating high-octane ride that started and ended with Haydn.
Quartet aficionados familiar with the history of Budapest String Quartet, just to mention one example, would find nothing remotely surprising in the fact that two of the members of Jerusalem Quartet come from Kiev and one from Minsk. Be that as it may, the times are such that the very combination of words Jerusalem and String Quartet will surely sound as an utmost affront to some, and indeed their concert in Amsterdam got canceled ostensibly due to a sensible Dutch calculation of extraordinary security costs. (It was rescheduled after an outcry in the musical world). Jordan Hall on November 1st was quite peaceful, not exactly packed but well attended, with an occasional family or two represented by three generations of listeners.
Haydn’s Op. 50 No. 1 is not the kind of opener that instantaneously switches the audience from the world of iPhones to that of string quartets. Its pulsating cello opening in the Allegro must have been a great attention signal on the occasions when the dedicatee King Friedrich-Wilhelm II played the part. Here in the 21st century however, it was the first violin’s job to grab attention, and Alexander Pavlovsky’s powerful and extremely bright instrument (possibly a 1696 Strad) shone, its intonation passionate and expressive. The Adagio non lento entered with confidence and energy, and then accelerated to a tempestuous and gripping episode in E-flat minor, almost up to Allegretto pace. By the Vivace Finale, a mad dash delivered without losing the powdered wig, the public had received a full introduction to this powerhouse ensemble.
For the grist in the programmatic mill, the group chose Shostakovich No. 12, Op. 133. The Jerusalem foursome made it clear from the get-go that this would be a modern interpretation, using every phrase’s potential for expressivity, not just following the architecture and the elemental flow. The first movement was lush and powerful, gripping through the power of each part’s individual emotions. But episodes of nearly orchestral textures that the composer was so proud of did not stand out as much as they used to in the oppressive and collectivist old days, with players reluctant to express too much of an individual character. In the massive second movement, with another set of opportunities for symphonism, the group used its full potential: in the adagio section with its prison song theme evoking the illusions of a string tutti in one pass and then the power of brass in another. Then came the final Allegretto, which DSCH introduced via a self-indulging ad libitum in the first violin, and there followed a trademark buildup with instruments bouncing the theme around and ultimately joining in harmony and tonality. Surely the composer, always conscious of symbols and signatures, must have been aware of this opus number matching that of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge, and he would find an extra modicum of inspiration in that. After the premiere of this quartet in 1968, Soviet music writers, in their florid style, designated it a triumph of the human spirit. We, feeble and pampered bourgeoisie, couldn’t possibly talk that big, but there was definitely a whiff of something life affirming in the air.
After the intermission, we were looking forward to the Dvořák G Major opus 106. The Allegro Moderato set off with passion and force: all those little birds of the Bohemian woods rarely possessed so much individuality. The phrasing engaged with tremendous spontaneity. The Adagio delivered a sense of personal drama, and probably would have worked better for me if it were more controlled and more majestic, as I imagine voices of when they allow themselves to be heard. I also found the Scherzo a bit over the top. The Finale, on the other hand, matched the composer’s con fuoco mark, exploding into a fully satisfying coda.
The audience brimmed with gratitude, and the foursome returned with an Andante from another Haydn masterpiece: opus 20 number 5. Redolent with the same passionate intent from Pavlovsky, and supported by crafty ensemble cooperation, it made me realize that of the great composers of the evening, it would be their Haydn that I would be most hungry to hear more.
The second encore, Mendelssohn’s Canzonetta from Op. 12, a rushing stream of movement and engagement, also fell on extremely grateful ears.