The Most Beautiful of All Lies

Emily Carr String Quartet:

Müge Büyükçelen, Cory Balzer, violins

Mieka Michaux, viola

Alasdair Money, cello

Christ Church Cathedral
March 11, 2022

By Deryk Barker

Conventional wisdom has it that there is nothing else which sounds quite like Claude Debussy's sole string quartet. Even Ravel's quartet, which was influenced by Debussy's, sounds very different.

Yet, if one is prepared to wander down some of the more recondite back roads of French music, one discovers composers such as Bonnal, La Tombelle, Pâque and Roger-Ducass, and string quartets which were not only clearly influenced by Debussy, but actually sound as if they might have been composed by him, albeit not on one of his better days.

And while imitation no doubt remains the sincerest form of flattery, there can also be no doubt that Debussy's quartet remains head-and-shoulders above these simulacra.

The Debussy provided the greater part of the Emily Carr Quartet's splendid recital, the second in the "Earth Songs: Music for Climate Justice" series and it was a performance to make one wish that Debussy himself had written more quartets, rather than leaving it to others.

The opening movement, marked Animé et très décidé, was indeed très décidé, although not lacking in animé (and no, I do not refer to Japanese cartoons). Cast in warm, rich tones, the music floated effortlessly and rhapsodically. Ensemble and balance were as exemplary as we have come to expect and the final coda was quite dizzying.

The pointilliste second movement had tremendous bounce and spirit, with the quartet's pizzicatos having such depth and resonance that one might easily have thought that there were at least eight musicians playing rather than just four. The piano close was exquisite.

The slow movement was simply gorgeous and I was especially impressed with the unanimity of tone colours at the opening, as the second violin seamlessly passes the melodic line to the viola: close your eyes and you could easily have been persuaded this was all from a single instrument.

The finale, after its pregnant opening, unfolded with excellent tempos and a genuinely big sound; perhaps it sounded a tad discursive to my ears, but then this movement almost invariably seems that way.

All-in-all, as fine a performance of this great masterpiece as I've heard in a very long time.

I must confess that I had viewed the first work on the programme, R. Murray Shafer's String Quartet No.2, "Waves", as the forfeit to be paid for the reward of hearing the Debussy: Shafer as a composer I have always found something of a hard nut to crack. Quite why this should be, I cannot easily say, certainly there are numerous composers whose music is "farther out" than his that I find more congenial.

Happily, "Waves" turned out to be, if not exactly an epiphany, then certainly a mild revelation. For the most part the music is quiet: the opening is all trills and tremolandos from the violins and viola, with the occasional high, keening interjection from the cello. The music is in constant, gentle motion: this, we are told, is "a musical interpretation of his recordings an analysis of ocean waves on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts with varied undulating patterns that mimic the cresting of waves". Which is all well and good, but without that information (and the work's subtitle) I could just as easily have been persuaded that it was based on the scurrying of ants in an anthill; the language of music really is anything but universal.

The quartet's playing was riveting, as witness the almost total silence from the audience, in a town which generally seems to consider anything composed after 1900 as dangerously modern.

It was only at the end that Shafer indulged in what now seems like gimmickry — or perhaps he was trying to get in touch with his Inner Mauricio Kagel — as first violinist Müge Büyükçelen wandered off and hid behind the pulpit, soon to be followed by second violinist Cory Balzer, then violist Mieka Michaux, who headed off on the other side and placed herself behind a column. At which point cellist Alasdair Money picked up the binoculars from his stool (I had been wondering) and gazed around as if seeking out his fellow musicians, before giving up on them and bringing the work to a close with a few final notes.

I doubt if Shafer will ever become one of my favourite composers, but after this performance he has definitely risen in my estimation.

As fine a way to spend a Friday (early) evening as I can imagine.


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