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18.11.25

Notes from the 2025 Salzburg Festival ( 5 )
Cuarteto Casals in Shostakovich

Salzburg Festival • Chamber Music • Cuarteto Casals



Also published in Die Presse: Serenade zum Todestag von Schostakowitsch: Cuarteto Casals in Salzburg


available at Amazon
D.Shostakovich,
The String Quartets (v.1),
Cuarteto Casals
Harmonia Mundi



available at Amazon
D.Shostakovich,
The String Quartets (v.2),
Cuarteto Casals
Harmonia Mundi



available at Amazon
D.Shostakovich,
The String Quartets (v.3),
Cuarteto Casals
Harmonia Mundi



Death Becomes them: Shostakovich Quartets in Salzburg

The Cuarteto Casals scored with dark sonority rather than hard edges in their DSCH-dedicated chamber music recital


Monday evening at the Salzburg Festival brought another birthday serenade for Shostakovich’s 50th death anniversary at the Mozarteum Hall – from the Cuarteto Casals. They promised three string quartets. Only three? After all, the Mandelring Quartet (CD reviews here, here, and here) still played all 15 quartets at the Festival back in 2011! (Reviewed on ionarts here.) But one doesn't want to be immoderate, and with Quartets 1, 8, and 15 – i.e. the first, last, and most famous – the selection was promising enough.

All the more so since there are no “early” string quartets with DSCH: When the 32-year-old Shostakovich took his first crack at the genre, with op.49, he was already an experienced composer with one suppressed and four performed symphonies plus two operas under his belt. The Lady Macbeth scandal that had brought him to the edge of the Gulag, and the ‘resurrection’ thanks to the Fifth Symphony, lay behind him. It should not surprise, then, that this first quartet is immediately a masterwork – as if it had sprung, Pallas-Athena-like, from Zeus’s head.

Right away, the Cuarteto Casals’ gloriously solid, perpetually beautiful, expressive sound – from top to bottom, first violin to cello – makes quite an impression. Cellist Arnau Tomàs (check out his Bach!!!) handled his part with resonant, bearish authority. Wonderful, the woody, round-cheeked timbre of Cristina Cordero’s viola. Fascinating the mediating work of second violinist Abel Tomàs. And fitting excellently into the picture: the dark-timbred first violin of Vera Martínez Mehner. One doesn’t miss the rougher approach that has a long tradition in these works at all, because the Spanish quartet’s lyricism, while luxurious, never seems superficial. Nor did it ever feel like the quartet was rounding the edges too much – a criticism that might be (though it doesn’t have to be) made of the Mandelrings. Small and infrequent intonation wobbles couldn’t distract amidst the astonishment over the sound.

That the Eighth Quartet is so much better known than the others does, in a way, surprise, since they all seem equally good. Or more evenly superb than the symphonies, anyway. On the other hand, it doesn’t take much to make the difference between hit and rarity, icon and footnote. (Are, for example, Mozart’s symphonies really as much better than those of Vanhal and Mysliveček as the fame gradient would have us believe?) But perhaps it’s also the dark vein of op.110 – so fitting the clichéd image of DSCH – that fascinates us, seeing that it appears to reflect the composer’s suffering and disguised resistance in Soviet terror…

And it was melancholy-gripping, what the Cuarteto Casals – currently recording all the quartets for Harmonia Mundi (see the Shostakovich String Quartet Survey) – delivered. “If his 15 symphonies are, according to the composer, ‘gravestones’”, writes Robert Reilly in Surprised by Beauty, “then the quartets are the flowers he lays on the graves.” The Cuarteto Casals’ tone – sadly beautiful and mellow – suits this poetry of suffering well.

One could title the six slow, relentless, embittered movements of op.144 with: “The Six Last Words of the Survivor”. Even more so than with Haydn, this deceleration on Shostakovich’s part is a gutsy, deliberate, and pointed imposition on the listener. The interpreters’ long lines made concentration easy, though, thanks to the unremitting inner tension amid this sustained slowness, and the pinch of Haydnesque mischief. The encore from the Third String Quartet, meanwhile, was merciless and had a symphonic earthiness about it. Fabulous, all, and very promising as far as their recordings are concerned.

Vera Martínez Mehner (Violine), Abel Tomàs (Violine), Arnau Tomàs (Violoncello), Cristina Cordero (Viola). SF / Marco Borrelli




11.11.25

Critic’s Notebook: Keenlyside Rejuvenated - A Relative Winterreise Success



Also published in Die Presse: Keenlyside im Konzerthaus: Auf Winterreise nach vokaler Verjüngungskur

available at Amazon
F.Schubert/H.Zender, Die Winterreise: A Composed Interpretation,
H.P.Blochwitz/Ensemble Modern
RCA (oop)



available at Amazon
F.Schubert, Die Winterreise D.911,
W.Güra/C.Berner
Harmonia Mundi



available at Amazon
F.Schubert, Die Winterreise D.911,
D.Fischer-Dieskau/J.Demus
DG



available at Amazon
F.Schubert, Die Winterreise D.911,
C.Schäfer/E.Schneider
Onyx

Simon Keenlyside: A Winter Journey, Raw but Renewed


A sound Schubert-evening from the british baritone Simon Keenlyside, showing him in much-improved form from a previous Vienna outing.


Six years ago, the then-sixty-year-old Simon Keenlyside sang Schubert’s Winterreise at the Vienna State Opera (reviewed on ClassicsToday) — arguably the least suitable venue imaginable for that work. It was, alas, a memorable evening: moving, yes, but also pitiable, given the state of Sir Simon’s voice. There was hardly a symptom of decline that didn’t make itself heard that evening. So why, one wondered, would the Konzerthaus — usually blessed with an unerring instinct for singers — take the risk of presenting him again?

Presumably because they know something we don’t: namely, that Keenlyside seems to have undergone a kind of vocal rejuvenation. There was little trace here of age, brittleness, or rasp. And he didn't even make much use of the Mozart-Saal’s intimacy, singing with rather more force than the (near-ideal) space would have required.

“Die kalten Winde bliesen / [Ihm] grad‘ ins Angesicht“, to paraphrase Schubert’s opening lines, or: “The cold winds blew straight into his face,” and Keenlyside fought back — successfully — with volume and determination, pacing the stage like Rilke’s tiger. “The post brings no letter for you…” was, by contrast, almost spoken, gently shaped. A single croak did intrude, though fittingly in “Die Krähe.”

In “Der Wegweiser” — the song in which the last hope (if there ever was any) fades away — he kept his tone steady at first, then shaded the final stanza in darkness. Here, as throughout, he was accompanied in wonderfully monochrome monotony by the seasoned song-partner Malcolm Martineau, whose playing ranged from laconic to nervously energized, always robust, dramatic, never falsely restrained, and unfailingly elegant in touch.

Keenlyside is hardly going to be able to claim textual-interpretive authority in this work — the words were too often blurred or not endowed with any particular dramatic emphasis — but there are hundreds of ways to make this cycle work. And this strong, vocally rough-hewn, almost brusque one was one such, largely convincing, way.