'Muß es sein?': Joel Krosnick Departs

Carter, String Quartets 1-5, Juilliard String Quartet (Sony, 2014)

When Ionarts came into being in the early part of the millennium, the Juilliard String Quartet was still in residence at the Library of Congress. The group has continued in various formations, returning to play at the National Gallery in 2008, for example. This season is the last for cellist Joel Krosnick, the only current member who played with founding violinist Robert Mann. The group returned to the Library of Congress on Saturday afternoon for Krosnick to take a valedictory lap, cheered on by many listeners who remember the good old days.

Things are looking up for the Juilliard, since the new additions are encouraging. Joseph Lin, who joined at first violin in 2011, had an overall powerful primarius sound, especially pretty at the high end. Violist Roger Tapping, formerly of the beloved Takács Quartet, joined in 2013, and although he was largely invisible in the opening piece, Schubert's Quartettsatz, he came to the fore in many solo moments in the middle work, Elliott Carter's first string quartet. (Tapping joined the Juilliard after the group had recorded Carter's fifth string quartet, released in a set in 2014, with the earlier recordings of the first four.)

Other Reviews: Robert Battey, A changed sound is heard in Juilliard Quartet’s concert at Library of Congress (Washington Post, February 28, 2016) Zachary Woolfe, Juilliard String Quartet Shows Agility at Alice Tully Hall (New York Times, November 24, 2015)

Neither of these pieces showed the quartet's new formation in the best light, however, due to some intonation issues in the first violin in the Schubert. One does wish that the Juilliard had chosen something other than the Carter, a work hard to love in spite of Lin's long, purple-prose introduction. The listener does come across moments of beauty here and there, like the lovely muted duet for the violins in the slow movement or the "boogie-woogie" passages in the third movement, here from a composer who had actually heard boogie-woogie.

At the cello Krosnick is not up to his former standards, but he seemed most at home in Beethoven's final string quartet, op. 135. Rather than the autumnal solemnity of some late Beethoven, the piece takes many jovial turns, brought out with a flexible sense of ensemble in the first movement. The bright-eyed, rollicking Vivace was nimble in all parts, with a sense of eye-twinkling from Krosnick's seat, and the slow movement showed off Lin's warm low-string sound. To the cellist's insistent repetitions of the head motif in the finale ("Muß es sein?", or Must it be?), the quartet took comic delight in chattering (musically) the response ("Es muß sein"). The latter is a reference to a comic canon Beethoven composed in 1826, informing a patron, who wanted to have a performance of one of Beethoven's string quartets in his house, that yes, the patron must pay the required fee to have a copy of the score ("Es muss sein! Ja ja ja ja! Heraus mit dem Beutel!," or It must be! Yes yes yes yes! Out with the wallet!). An encore, the slow movement from Mozart's K. 465 ("Dissonance"), offered a final moment of farewell.

Juilliard Quartet Back in Washington

Juilliard String Quartet, photo by Nana Watanabe/SONY Classical

These days the Juilliard Quartet trades mostly on its history, having created in its glory years, the post-WWII decades, a distinctive American string quartet sound. None of the original members are left, after the 1997 retirement of its tireless leader, Robert Mann, but the Juilliard continues to play around the world, generally drawing huge crowds. At their Sunday evening concert on the free weekly series at the National Gallery of Art, over 100 people had to be turned away for lack of seating. It was the quartet's first appearance in Washington since 2006, after many years of giving regular concerts as part of a residency at the Library of Congress, and there was a sense of pent-up hunger for a familiar sound. If the quartet wants to come back to Washington for a regular engagement, perhaps a larger venue will come forward to make it happen.

Juilliard Quartet: Verdi, op. 68 Carter, No. 2 Complete Beethoven

The concert's first half consisted of some unfamiliar repertoire, both of which come from the Juilliard's extensive discography. Giuseppe Verdi composed only one string quartet (E minor, op. 68), almost by accident. It is hardly a great piece, but it is rewarding to hear it dusted off once in a while, even if the Juilliard's rendition was marred by a few shortcomings (Pierre Gervasoni noted similar problems at the Juilliard's Paris concert in Le Monde). The dramatic first movement came off a little harried, with the overall impression of furious string scrubbing and even some squeaks. The tarantella-like third movement featured some slightly rough off-the-string playing from first violinist Joel Smirnoff, although the trio's cello solo was elegantly played by Joel Krosnick. The high point was the second-movement Andantino, especially the sly waltz in tragic tone that opens and closes it. The fourth movement, a fugue with a subject that is a stream of fast notes, is not quite as accomplished as Verdi's best assay of the contrapuntal process, the one that concludes his final opera, Falstaff.

The quartet has been celebrating the Elliott Carter centennial year with performances of the American composer's second string quartet, and one hopes that their recording of his first four quartets will soon be re-released. Carter is, in one sense, the reverse of Verdi, a renowned composer of instrumental music who has composed only one opera. Although Carter has described his second quartet as a "four-way conversation," the average listener might instead characterize it mostly as four people speaking simultaneously about unrelated subjects, often in different time signatures. The timing of the work offers countless challenges, as witnessed by the furious counting of beats seen on the lips of cellist Joel Krosnick. Some sections were particularly effective, including what might be called a "night music" passage, con sordini, and the tender opening of the slow movement, which devolved into howls of agony in the middle section. Of the three cadenzas that offer transitions from movement to movement, the best was the extended one for the first violin, where Smirnoff gave a forceful but quite lovely tone.

Other Reviews: Robert Battey, Juilliard String Quartet's Intricate Discourse (Washington Post, February 19)

It makes me wistful to recall that some of the earliest concerts we reviewed here at Ionarts were from the 40th anniversary year (2002-2003) of the Juilliard Quartet's residency at the Library of Congress, during which they played all of the Beethoven quartets, one per concert in series, combined with contemporary works. So, of course, the evening would not be complete without one of the Beethoven quartets, in this case, the last of the Razumovsky quartets (op. 59, no. 3 -- online score). The enigmatic slow opening of this piece made a nice bridge from the Carter, leading into an exalted reading of the heroic Allegro vivace.

As with the Verdi and Carter, it was the slow movement that impressed most, set at just the right tempo to accommodate the graceful arches of its tragic melody. It was introspective, stretched with the push and pull of sensitive playing, not polished to the sheen of perfection associated with the Emerson Quartet, for example. The performance was rounded out by a smooth reading of the sentimental minuet, never jagged. Again the program was unified, as Beethoven ends this quartet with a fugue, as Verdi had done at the opening of the program, also with a subject of mostly running notes. All in all, this was a concert that impressed not necessarily because every note was perfectly in place, but more because of a sense of vision, awareness of grand form, not only within each work but across them.

Upcoming free concerts at the National Gallery of Art include the National Gallery Chamber Players Piano Trio (February 24, 6:30 pm) and a noontime concert of music by William Grant Still, featuring soprano Celeste Headlee and pianist Danielle DeSwert (February 27, 12:10 pm), in honor of Black History Month.

That's All, Folks!

This is a review of a concert on December 18, 2003.

The culmination of the Beethoven String Quartet Cycle at the Library of Congress with the Juilliard String Quartet took place on December 18 in the Coolidge Auditorium with the Stradivari Anniversary Concert. As we read in the program notes, "Gertrude Clarke Whittall's 1935 donation to the Library of five Stradivari instruments was followed shortly thereafter by an endowment to provide for their care and use. The foundation, which built the Whittall Pavilion in 1938 to house the instruments, also enables the resident quartet to perform on them and provides for the acquisition of large collections of music and individual rare manuscripts."

Antonio Stradivari (1644–1737) made his superb string instruments around the turn of the 17th century, and his instruments bear individual names. Among the instruments given by Mrs. Whittall are the "Betts" violin from 1704 (~1700–1725 being the best period of his violin making), the "Castelbarco" violin (1699) and cello (1697), the "Cassavetti" viola (1727), and the "Ward" violin from 1700. "Five Tourte bows accompanied the instruments. Every year, the foundation [...] presents a concert—featuring the Strads and played by the Library's quartet-in-residence—to commemorate the death anniversary of Antonio Stradivari, who died on December 18, 1737." (The Juilliard String Quartet, by the way, always fiddle around with these instruments—not only during this concert.)

Scientists have recently proposed the hypothesis that the elusive reason for the unique quality of these instruments was a series of extremely cold winters and unusually cool summers (a "mini-Ice Age") over two decades in the late 17th century. This resulted in a slower growth of trees and a higher density of the wood, culminating in the unique and extraordinary tone that a Stradivari violin produces. [See John Pickrell, Did "Little Ice Age" Create Stradivarius Violins' Famous Tone?, January 7, from National Geographic News. If you read science, you can also consult the article that originally presented the research: Lloyd Burckle and Henri D. Grissino-Mayer, Stradivari, Violins, Tree Rings, and the Maunder Minimum: A Hypothesis, in Dendrochronologia 21/1 (2003): 41–45.—CTD]

The concert featured just two works, the Beethoven String Quartet, op.130, in B-flat Major and the grand String Quintet in C Major, D.956, by Franz Schubert. As much as I was delighted to find the rewarding Schubert on the program, I have to admit that I missed the modern "sandwich-filler." Indeed, I was disappointed that the Juilliard were not trying to edify and enrich us (against our will?) with some piece that was modern and off the beaten path. Even when thorny and of dubiously gratifying nature, they have become quite dear to me and to my ears.

The Beethoven quartet, already presented at the concert on October 22nd (see the Ionarts review from October 22), was given in its more conventional form with the Rondo as the last movement—instead of the original form with Die Grosse Fuge as the final piece. The latter was cut by Beethoven after he was persuaded to do so by his friends and publisher, reconstituting the quartet with the shorter finale, just months before his death.

The playing in the filled hall commenced, full of feeling, as the Adagio ma non troppo flowed seamlessly into the first movement's Allegro. A little uncleanness did not detract, especially as the first of two rondos arrived after much tuning of the quartet's instruments had spoiled our ears. Now—as at its first performance on March 21, 1826 (where it had to be encored)—it delighted the audience. Lively and joyous, the opening figure of the music proceeds swiftly, with a few sprightly bars of pizzicato to loosen things up. The Andante con moto ma non troppo passes, as does the dance-like fourth movement (Alla danza tedesca: Allegro assai). It seems more difficult now to understand the immediate enthusiasm that this movement received at its premiere, and it also fails to leave me with an appreciation for German dancing of the time.

However, the Cavatina (Adagio molto espresivo) is stunning! First received lukewarmly, as the program tells us, it is nothing now but charming and moving. Were slow movements not as popular almost two centuries ago? (One thinks of the divine second movement, Adagio non troppo), in Brahms's 2nd Symphony, which no one much cared for at its first offering on December 30th, 1877.) Joel Smirnoff produced a rather whimsical tone in this movement, very cleanly played (perhaps the tempo helped) and altogether a delight. The entire quartet rose to the occasion of this lovely movement and most of the audience was spellbound.

The finale is a cute (little) thing compared to the overpowering, awkward, and dryish Grosse Fuge. Instead of op.133, we have something lighthearted and nice. "Harmless" would be unduly negative, although it comes to mind compared to its predecessor as the closing of this quartet. Ludwig van Beethoven announces the end of this piece from a mile away (it really is still a mile away) . . . and its energy rewards us for what is otherwise well described as "long!"

I suppose the quartet could have been executed with more care, but altogether this part of the concert was a welcome and uplifting capstone, not only to op.130, but to the entire Beethoven String Quartet Cycle coming to its conclusion in celebration of the Juilliard's 40th anniversary as the String Quartet in residence at the Library of Congress.

After the intermission, in which most people were more excited about the Beethoven than I, came what turned out to be the spellbinding event not only of the evening, but really of the series of concerts that I have been to since October. The Juilliard with the help of cellist Marcy Rosen gave us the "Schubert Quartet for Five Instruments," the String Quintet, D.956.

The first movement (Allegro ma non troppo) starts out slowly until it picks up a little speed after the first common crescendo. Two cellos, of course, are better than one—because now Joel Krosnick had competition and immediately responded to it. He slouched a bit less and even curiously peeked from behind his cello over to Mme. Rosen. The latter had the part that carried the melody in a sweet tenor line, while the former provided for the bass. Viola player Samuel Rhodes performed lonely pizzicati, sitting all the way to the right edge—his body turned away a bit from the other four, as if perturbed that he didn't get a viola-buddy.

The interpretations that shot through my mind while listening might have resulted from the lighthearted character of the music (without ever being shallow)—a truly enjoyable affair—especially considering that it was written just weeks before rigor mortis beset Schubert's body. For instance, as my eye wandered, it latched onto the wardrobe presented by Marcy Rosen. She appeared in a curious turquoise-purple sweater of sorts, to which seemed to be attached a cape that, lifelessly draped over the chair, resembles a rather hungover bat that has accidentally flown into an 80s makeup cabinet. The rest of the dress was kindly hidden by the bipartite forces of her cello and Mr. Rhodes's body.

However, the playing was wonderful and faultless; viola and first cello were making wonderful music, the violins answering duly until this game commenced in the reverse, the violins making conversation while cello and viola respond. The ensuing Adagio with its long notes and plucked bass line made for welcome progress after a long first movement. The playing continued to be immaculate. Suddenly, within the Adagio the music gets rather wild, offering hard work for the first cello (Mme. Rosen and her bat mastered it effectually) before the seas calm again. A very gentle passage brings out lyrical (I overheard "boring" from less sensitively attuned listeners) elements with long pizzicato-dominated passages.

Appropriately, the third movement (Scherzo: Presto ~ Trio: Andante Sostenuto) jolted the audience, some of whom seemed to think the Quintet (barely half of it played) evening-filling already. The trio in this movement takes over and re-sedates the recently awoken with its mellow character. The repeated four-note figure that dominates the trio ends it in a muscular fashion worthy of any finale and makes way for the actual last movement, the Allegretto. I gently woke my neighbor and listened myself with a concentration not usual for me when attending chamber concerts with late Classical or early Romantic repertoire. Thus at least two listeners fully appreciated the joyous and entertaining nature of this movement. Closing rapture gathered speed and upped the decibel level.

Mr. Smirnoff, in his unique fashion, dangled on his chair like an electrocuted bass, feet off the ground, playing excitedly, barely balancing himself at the middle of both body and chair. The playing continued to be blemish-free and only made it easier to enjoy every note in this masterpiece that is perhaps less often heard than it deserves. The last note barely evaporated into the Coolidge Auditorium's air when the audience burst into instant and truly enthusiastic applause. Standing ovations—for the Schubert, surely, but also for all the preceding concerts from two years in which the Juilliard has delighted Washingtonians (not usually known for extensive ovations) with great music.

Leaving that night, it was difficult to think of a more worthy and moving end to this series, and I doubt anyone went home untouched. Now we have only to ask ourselves what more there might be to come. My New Year's resolution shall be to find out.

Late Pearls in a String of Quartets — by Jens Laurson

As the cycle of Beethoven String Quartets of the Juilliard String Quartet nears its end at the Library of Congress, the audience came in full force to the Coolidge Auditorium on November 21. Not having a ticket for this performance (free, like all events at the Library, but requiring a ticket through Ticketmaster, nonetheless) left me in a waiting room with about 50 other enthusiasts, also hoping that some ticket holders would not show up. Most of those who waited were seated in time. For the remainder, chairs were ready after the first piece.

That piece was the Haydn String Quartet op.55, #5 ("The Razor"). Those who saw it via the TV screen in the posh waiting room (amidst historic instruments and busts of musicians) missed out on little, since the Haydn, charming a piece as it is, was played rather sloppily and quite unimaginatively. But even when the Juilliard Quartet plays sub-par and routinely, the experience is still well worth that price of admission.

Far more interesting, this time, was the modern piece that the Juilliard throws to every concertgoer. So far I've heard Milton Babbitt, and now I was subjected to Lee Hoiby. When I coyly say "subjected," I am probably being disingenuous. I somewhat liked even the truly thorny Milton Babbitt—and compared to that Lee Hoiby is a walk on a beach. Serenade for Violin and Piano (a McKim Commission) was presented to us thanks to Brent McMunn on the Steinway and Ronald Copes on the Violin. Soft piano notes, whimsically on the upper register and responded to in the lower register start the piece, followed by a surprisingly sweet melody that seems like a piece composed 200 years ago, but askew. Rhythmic blocks enter and are ended with a rough pizzicato. From there it proceeded rather tamely and conventionally, with piano first and then both instruments, from which develops a dialog and soon gentle, even sweepingly melodic sections.

As played in the Coolidge Auditorium, it was far gentler to the conservative audience than any Bartók, Shostakovich, or Schoenberg could ever be. It showed off a virtuosity and energy on part of the violin that was well matched by the rounded sounds of the piano, often leaving the impression that much greater forces were at work than only these two instruments. This music was difficult to compare to the work of any one or two composers, which puzzled me. While it never sounded unfamiliar in style, it also did not remind me of anything in particular. Perhaps its influences were too manifold to be audible. At any rate, good enough to be attested utmost originality, while not necessarily breaking new ground. Utterly delightful was the fact that Mr. Hoiby is a composer who knows—unlike many—how (and when!) to end a piece. As it had come, so it went—short and sweet. The audience went genuinely delighted into intermission—not always the case after some of the Juilliard's modern ventures.

Beethoven's last String Quartet—op.135 in F major—was the main course of the evening—and rightly so. Light moments in this work cannot hide the late Beethoven in it. For all its charm, this work is also dense enough to make one better understand the quip reported from the late Rudolf Serkin—who, when asked why he did not play any contemporary music, responded: "But I do—I play late Beethoven!"

The short fugal opening movement ("Allegro con brio") is followed by the second, titled "Adagio ma non troppo." The adagio is indeed not too slow: it whizzed by me almost unnoticed. The ensuing Allegro is a joyous rush that seems rather molto vivace—and ends in a rather strange muddle of instruments for several bars—in a manner far more repetitive than harmonic. The next movement opens almost ethereally and falls quickly into what I cannot better explain than a solid block of chromatic string advancement that loses the quality of the opening bars—only to regain them towards the end. Joel Smirnoff's inhalation becomes strangely intrusive at times during which the quartet seems as much an exercise in simultaneous breathing as an act of music making.

As with all late Beethoven, this piece, too, needs to be enjoyed from the "inside of the music"—because its superficial value does not necessarily lend itself to great listening enjoyment. Part of why late Beethoven is the beginning of modern music!? Brutal, almost jarring chord-shards open the last movement (prestissimo). Violent violin-scrubbing later in the movement is an instant reminder of the opening of the movement, but inevitably the flow of the music comes back, as if Beethoven teased, only to "play nice again." Then it delights with a short pizzicato section, and the piece is over before one knew it.

The exemplary playing by the Juilliard made this String Quartet seemed far shorter than it actually is. Unlike in some of their performances I have heard so far, they were right on target. The other audience members, as well as myself, could all tell this was a piece that the Juilliard knew well and felt more comfortable with than the Haydn. It was not the kind of routine playing that results from knowing a piece intimately, but skilled and motivated execution underpinned by a profound understanding of the work.

The performance left me excited and sad at once, looking forward to the last installment of this series on December 18th where the Beethoven Cycle of String Quartets will be brought to an end with a performance of op.130 with its more conventional ending (not "Die grosse Fuge"). Even having only come across this monumental concert series this year, I have enjoyed the opportunity to follow these works immensely and can only hope to encounter similar pleasures soon.

Juilliard Quartet at the Library of Congress

This evening the Juilliard String Quartet was again in the Coolidge Auditorium at the Library of Congress (see my post on their last performance on October 22). This is part of the 2003-2004 season of the annual series of free concerts hosted by the Library of Congress here in Washington, D.C. There were no special, oversized violas for tonight's program, so I think that the quartet was once again performing on the matched set of Stradivari instruments, donated to the Library in 1934 by Mrs. Gertrude Clarke Whittall.

The program began with an absolutely stellar performance of Béla Bartók's String Quartet no. 1 (op. 7). The Juilliard Quartet was the first group in the United States to play all six of the Bartók string quartets, in 1949, and the various members have made three recordings of the these important works, starting with the first recording in 1950. Not only can a listener trace the progress of Bartók's musical style over the course of the six quartets, but you get a chance to hear some of the best music the 20th century had to offer. In fact, it is really not an exaggeration to say that, by composing them, Bartók did a lot to preserve the string quartet as a modern genre. I expected the Juilliard to give a fine performance of Bartók, given the group's history, but I was truly astounded by the beauty of this performance. At this point in his life (1907-1910), Bartók was still composing in a surprisingly tonal, or post-Romantic, style. However, there are moments of tension and dissonance in the piece that already were becoming part of his vocabulary. Furthermore, the influence of Hungarian folk music is felt strongly in this quartet for the first time, as Bartók's friend Zóltan Kódaly noted. Bartók and Kódaly at this point were preparing their study and collection of Hungarian folk melodies, eventually a total of over 100,000 of them (see the introduction to Hungarian Folk Songs). If you want to learn more about Hungarian folk song, take a look at Zoltán Bodolai's The Timeless Nation: The History, Literature, Music, Art and Folklore of the Hungarian Nation (1978), available online among the incredible collection of resources from the Corvinus Library of Hungarian History.

This was followed by another piece by Milton Babbitt, the Clarinet Quintet, featuring guest clarinettist Charles Neidich. This piece was premiered by the Juilliard Quartet and Mr. Neidich, to whom the composer dedicated it, for the quartet's 50th anniversary in 1996. It's a slightly more melodic piece than what was on Wednesday's program, but the effect of discombobulation was basically the same. Between the wild bobbing of Mr. Neidich's head and the obvious foot tapping of members of the quartet, it was obvious that the shifting rhythm of the piece is difficult to coordinate. It is one long movement, which is rather disconcertingly monochromatic. (For an older assessment of Babbitt's work, Greg Sandow has made available online his article The Fine Madness of Milton Babbitt, from The Village Voice, in 1982.)

The second half of the concert was the next installment of the Juilliard String Quartet's performance of the entire cycle of Ludwig van Beethoven's string quartets, in celebration of its 40th anniversary at the Library of Congress: the String Quartet no. 14 in C# Minor, op. 131. The quartet's performance was excellent, but the Bartók had already been the high point of the concert. Op. 131 was completed in 1826, just a year before Beethoven's death, and is one of the longest string quartets he wrote: it is divided into seven movements and takes about 40 minutes to perform. Beethoven's study of counterpoint, which I discussed in relation to Wednesday's performance of op. 130 with the Grosse Fuge, is also in evidence. The opening of the first movement features the fugal entrance of the four parts on a solemn, tragic melodic subject. This learned style is in contrast to a sort of graceful folk sound featured in the third movement (Allegro moderato) and the Haydnesque humor of the fifth movement(Presto). In the fourth movement (Andante ma non troppo e molto cantabile) the pizzicato sforzandos were very accurate, loud, and pleasing to hear, as was the high playing of the first violin in the Presto. All in all, this was again a most pleasing concert at the Library of Congress.

Juilliard Quartet at the Library of Congress

As I wrote in a post on August 31 (Free Concerts in Washington), the Library of Congress here in Washington, D.C., has begun the 2003-2004 season of its annual series of free concerts. I was in the Coolidge Auditorium this evening for the first of their concerts I have been able to attend, the first performance this season by the Juilliard String Quartet. The members of this group, in its 41st year of residence at the Library of Congress, are Joel Smirnoff (violin), Ronald Copes (violin), Samuel Rhodes (viola), and Joel Krosnick (cello).

The program began with an unusual performance of the first four contrapunctus movements of J. S. Bach's Die Kunst der Fuge (The Art of Fugue, BWV 1080), an interesting choice intended to highlight the influence of this work on Beethoven's late quartets, one of which concluded the program. In a short program note on the piece, violist Samuel Rhodes writes:

Why isn't the Art of Fugue a standard fixture of the string quartet repertoire? Written in open score for four abstract voices—soprano, alto, tenor, and bass—the Art of Fugue, transcribed for every possible combination ranging from keyboard instrument to full orchestra and concert band, seems perfectly suited to the combination of two violins, viola, and cello. I believe the principal reason is a purely practical one, the fact that the alto and tenor lines go below the range of the violin and viola a significant number of times throughout the work.

What makes this performance tonight unusual is that the Juilliard Quartet did not alter a single note of Bach's score, which is the usual solution to the problem. The second violinist played viola "in places that are too low," and Mr. Rhodes played the tenor part on a slightly larger version of the viola, built for him by Marten Cornelissen "so that it can extend the normal viola range down by a fourth." Cornelissen is known as a most talented instrument builder, and this large viola, according to Mr. Rhodes, "not only functions wonderfully in this altered way but, when normally strung, is also one of the finest violas my colleagues and I have ever heard!"

The first four movements are fairly straightforward fugues, in which the subject is presented clearly, without the more complex transformations Bach uses later in the piece. What he seems to be showing first is how to write clear fugal expositions and episodes, how to transform your subject with rhythmic variation, and how to write a subject that inverts well. Contrapunctus I, which exposes the subject in its original form (do-sol-me-do-ti-do-re-me-fa-me-re-do), was played in a slow tempo, with an almost dry separation of the initial four half notes each time the subject or answer appeared. Contrapunctus II uses the noninverted form of the subject as well, with slight rhythmic changes, including a syncopated version of the answer, and the quartet played this movement at a much faster tempo, giving it almost the feel of a variation on Contrapunctus I. Contrapuncti III and IV were paired in a similar way, because both these movements present the inverted form of the subject. The piece's next movement, a canon at the octave, frames the first four movements together, but the quartet chose not to play it tonight. This performance belied the characterization often unjustly applied to Die Kunst der Fuge, that of a cerebral piece, written more for study than performance. As recent research has shown, many of Bach's pieces and especially his monumental collections had a didactic or encyclopedic purpose, but that does not make this piece academic or unmoving any more than the Brandenburg Concerti. Sadly, one spectator forgot to turn off his cell phone and received a call with a ridiculous ring precisely at a dramatic pause near the end of Contrapunctus I. (To learn more about Die Kunst der Fuge, see this Introduction to the Art of Fugue by Timothy A. Smith at the University of Northern Arizona; On Johann Sebastian Bach's Art of the Fugue by John Stone; and J.S. Bach's The Art of the Fugue: An Enigma Resolved by David Peat.)

The first half of the program concluded with a piece called The Joy of More Sextets by Milton Babbitt, performed by Joel Smirnoff and guest pianist Christopher Oldfather. This piece was commissioned by the Library of Congress and first performed in Coolidge Auditorium in 1987, to celebrate Babbitt's 70th birthday. The title is in reference to Babbitt's earlier piece Sextets (1966), but neither it nor this piece is a sextet; both are for violin and piano. I have done some reading about this piece after the concert, because the program notes did not include information about it, leading to an unusual way of experiencing it for me. I usually think of twelve-tone music as primarily intellectual because I tend to listen to it armed with an understanding informed by theorists and historians who study it. From a purely auditory experience, I cannot say that I was able to perceive anything about its form or structure, but I don't know if that is good or bad. What I can say is that the generally sparse texture of poking and scratching on both instruments, with very little of what can really be called melody, has much in common with the music of Webern. What struck me for the first time was the relationship of this style with the style of jazz known as bebop, spurts of dissonant, jagged sound. Although many in the audience seemed to appreciate the piece, there were also the expected murmurs of discontent. Some people slept, and many refused to applaud.

What most people probably came to hear was the concert's second half, Ludwig van Beethoven's String Quartet in B-flat, op. 130. The Juilliard Quartet performed this piece with, as its final movement, the Grosse Fuge, op. 133, as it was originally conceived by Beethoven, who later substituted a lighter final movement in response to criticism. (See this analysis of the Grosse Fuge for more information.) To celebrate its 40th anniversary at the Library of Congress, almost a year ago now, the Juilliard String Quartet began one of its performances of the entire cycle of the Beethoven string quartets. (It was the first quartet in the United States to do this, at a series of concerts in New York in 1948 to 1949, the first to perform it on television, and the first to make a complete digital recording. They have since performed the cycle again in New York, Boston, Pasadena, at my alma mater Michigan State University in East Lansing, and now in Washington.) The cycle will be completed at the quartet's four remaining concerts at the Library of Congress between now and December.

This was a truly beautiful performance that was thrilling to hear. The second movement (Presto) was played sotto voce and blindingly fast. It's quite short and, when it was over, an audible murmur of surprised contentment was heard from the audience. Also of particular beauty was the fifth movement (Cavatina), a lyric aria of aching, Romantic beauty which was played superbly. The theme of the whole concert seems to be the idea and practice of counterpoint, which is integral to all three pieces on the program. As Norman Middleton, Jr., pointed out in his program note, Beethoven copied sections of Contrapunctus IV from Bach's Die Kunst der Fuge into his sketches of both the Piano Sonata, op. 106 (Hammerklavier), and the Ninth Symphony, and the main subject of the Grosse Fuge is "a retrograde version of the name 'Bach' (B-flat, A, C, B-natural)." It is a program that has intellectual interest and was most pleasing to the ear.