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First Unitarian Church
June 30, 2019
In Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's 1969 book "On Death and Dying" she first proposed the five stages of grief as: 1. Denial and isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance. She also observed that these five stages do not necessarily always occur in the same order.
Jule Axelrod, writing on psychcentral.com, observes that "we often move between stages before achieving a more peaceful acceptance of death. Many of us are not afforded the luxury of time required to achieve this final stage of grief."
This observation seems particular apposite in the case of Felix Mendelssohn: on learning, in May 1847, of the sudden death of his beloved sister Fanny, Felix collapsed. He spent much of the following month recuperating in Baden-Baden. On his return to Leipzig his friends found him changed, now seeming pale and tired. There followed a week's trip to Berlin, to visit Fanny's grave, after which he became seriously ill and could not conduct the first of the Gewandhaus concerts; in October he had the first of a series of strokes which, eventually, on November 4 at 9:24 p.m., caused his death.
His final work, the String Quartet in F minor, Op.80 was composed in the July as a "Requiem for Fanny" and it seems clear that he was still nowhere near the acceptance stage of his own grief.
But of course, it is in the nature of great artists that they will frequently react to tragedies in their own lives by producing lasting musical testaments and, despite the lingering reputation for sentimentality which continues to dog Mendelssohn, this last quartet is surely a fine exemplar, as he poured his grief into his final masterpiece.
And it was with a stunning performance of Mendelssohn's swansong that the Calidore String Quartet closed their superb programme and the 2019 Eine Kleine Summer Music series.
If there were some echoes of those well-known Mendelssohnian fairies in the tremolandos of the quartet's opening, all one can say is that the fairies were most distinctly not happy, but were, rather, raging against an unkind fate. There was slight amelioration of the mood in the shape of the second subject lament from the cello, most nobly played by Estelle Choi. The quartet's control of their accelerando in the coda was total and quite extraordinary.
The second movement opens in a relatively relaxed mood, but soon the intensity returned. For some reason the phrase "grace under pressure" resonated here. The trio provided an oasis, however brief, amidst the turmoil and torment.
The slow movement brings some respite from the quartet's overriding gloom, the quartet's exquisite playing yielding a seamlessly woven cantilena, which brought to mind the great British soprano Isobel Baillie's advice to her pupils: "never sing louder than lovely".
Although the finale's main theme seems to be attempting to reach some sort of acceptance, the composer's grief is still overwhelming, as indeed, was the quartet's playing in the fiery, anguished final coda.
Looking at the programme on paper, one might have questioned the wisdom of closing with the Mendelssohn, after having played a late Beethoven quartet (read on) in the first half.
As it transpired, in this and every other regard, the Calidores knew precisely what they were doing. Given a performance of such ardour and, at time, vehemence, it is difficult to imagine following it with anything.
Except, perhaps, a Haydn slow movement.
For an encore (and it probably would have been accounted "cruel and unusual" to leave us in the depths of Mendelssohnian despair) they gave us the slow movement from Haydn's penultimate quartet, Op.77 No.1. It was, to quote my notebook, "simply wonderful".
It was clear from the first chords of the first work of the afternoon, Beethoven's Op.127, that we were in for a genuine musical treat. The Calidores produced a huge, rich tone, which more than suited the maestoso marking of the first movement's introduction. And yet, big as their tone was, it never overpowered the music, but was there entirely at its service.
The transition from that introduction to the allegro was beautifully handled; lines were commendably clear, the quick music had a marvellous delicacy and the inner parts propelled the music along.
The slow movement was so unutterably gorgeous as to prompt me to wonder how Beethoven (or, for that matter, any mere human) could have written it. The slower music was consoling, the quicker music (again, transitions were superbly handled) had a wonderful restrained bounce to the rhythm with which I was most taken.
The scherzando was driven, but not over-driven, with a distinctly puckish air; the finale had a distinctly suave tone, with an emphasis throughout on rhythmic verve.
To describe this as distinguished Beethoven playing would be to severely understate the case.
Between these two nineteenth century masterworks we had some rather more recent music in the shape of Caroline Shaw's Three Essays, whose first complete performance was given by the Calidores just a year ago.
Although I must confess that I felt Shaw could have used the services of a sympathetic editor (or, at any rate, somebody who would point out, kindly but firmly, that perhaps the first essay was a tad overlong) there was much to enjoy in these pieces.
The first essay, "Nimrod" (no relation, insofar as I could tell, to Elgar) featured some gently rocking, almost Copland-esque harmonies, but also a remarkable "de-tuned" chord, some genuinely snarling passagework and a dramatic pizzicato ending.
The opening of the second essay, "Echo", opens with another stunning effect, this time a scraping sound, which I imagine was produced by bowing the strings with the wood of the bow, gradually changing to something rather more like a conventional chord, a change which was managed so smoothly as to beggar belief. The chords formed from harmonics later in the essay blended nicely with the sound of sirens from outside.
The last essay is entitled "Ruby" and Shaw's website tells us that it is inspired not only by the gemstone, but also the programming language — one of the few programming language which almost encourages one to shoot oneself in the foot (you can, for example, as I used to demonstrate to my students, redefine '+' such that '2+2 = 5', although after that nothing will work properly).
Frankly, I was hard put to detect either influence in the music itself although it, like everything else on the programme, was played exceptionally well. I definitely enjoyed the heavy downward glissandos which were a notable feature of the movement.
There can be no disputing the fact that the Calidore String Quartet is a class act and those who were present at this (or the previous day's concert) can indeed count themselves fortunate.
A sumptuous close to this year's Eine Kleine Summer Music.
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