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Prazak Quartet breaks the mold
By Michael Cameron
Special to the Tribune
Published November 24, 2002
A concert featuring a Czech string quartet performing Czech music may hold the promise of a predictable, commonplace affair. Happily, the Prazak Quartet's thoroughly engaging traversal of works by three beloved Bohemians on Friday at Mandel Hall was anything but routine.
The program, under the auspices of the University of Chicago Presents series, broke the mold of standard string quartet fare in at least a couple of respects. The usual diet of three serious quartets of predominantly German or Viennese origin was replaced by a seldom heard work of unusual instrumentation followed by two highly subjective and programmatic works in a genre not generally viewed as accommodating to such biographical fodder.
Antonin Dvorak's "Bagatelles," Opus 47, was composed for the unlikely combination of two violins, cello and harmonium, a smallish reed organ with a sound vaguely suggestive of an accordion. The work proved to be a delightful surprise, as the composer seemed content to avoid the high seriousness of intent, which sometimes mars his larger works, in favor of a more direct, melodic approach that gives full bloom to his greatest gifts.
Ever mindful of the limited dynamic range of the harmonium, the three string players drew the listener forward with an intimate, genial reading that breathed the gracious spirit of the parlor. All of the qualities associated with the Eastern European approach to string playing were on display, especially a warm, mellow, burnished sound that never hinted at stridency even during the most intense passages.
Next came a riveting account of Leos Janacek's String Quartet No. 1, "The Kreutzer Sonata." This work is as close to a latent opera as any in the quartet repertoire, with the players serving as four actors in a fast-moving drama.
During passages of distinct individuality, it was uncanny how the musicians so utterly inhabited their characters, yet remained in perfect sync with each other, no matter how contradictory and conflicted the dialogue. The transitions in the second movement from high spirits to bitter recriminations were executed with a thrilling, knife-edge exactitude.
After the joy of discovery and high drama of the first half, a letdown could be expected with Smetana's Quartet No 1, "From My Life," one of the two Czech war horses of the 19th Century, along with Dvorak's "American" quartet. Multiple hum-drum readings have left the impression that the work is simply a string of memorable but musty Slavic tunes.
This foursome did the nearly impossible, breathing new life into a work they have undoubtedly played since childhood. One could argue that some of their rubatos were over-done, especially in the second movement "... a la Polka," where the effect was at times like the comic whose guffaws at his own banter linger uncomfortably long. Yet even these excesses couldn't mar the infectious beer hall rusticity of the scene.
Definitive may be the most overused adjective in the critic's vocabulary, but no other single word more aptly describes the achievement by this superb foursome.
Copyright © 2002, Chicago Tribune
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