Quartetto Beethoven di Roma — Delayed Action

When distinguished overseas artists mount the platform of the Wellington Town Hall, the hush which precedes the opening bars has a quality of expectancy almost visible. And the initial impact of such professionals is immediate. The audience responds with a metaphorical sigh of appreciation, puts its feet up and settles down to enjoy the music.

The first piano quartet on the programme (Piano Quartet no 3 in C) was particularly interesting, first because it was written in 1785 when Beethoven was only 15, and secondly in being among the earliest examples of music written for this medium. The true stamp of Beethoven is surely there in rich melody and harmonies, the variety and inventiveness. The performers were clearly masterly in their technique, but where was the sparkle? Occasional, all too brief flashes of brilliance so tantalising, but worrying.

Only one item followed the interval, Faure's Piano Quartet no I in C minor op 15 — a bit of an unknown quantity. The audience was restless. Suddenly, the Town Hall came alive. Glorious, seemingly endless melody unfolded and delighted with its contrapuntal complexity and subtle harmonies. I could hear the viola perfectly. The work showed precisely that elusive quality of grace and charm which is supposed to epitomize French music at its best, exciting from the pizzicato of the Scherzo to the poignant Adagio.

Applause was ecstatic and the performers, instead of looking as they had earlier as if they'd like to go home and watch TV, seemed pleased with themselves and sat down and played a Brahms Scherzo as an encore, with great gusto. Thank goodness for Faure.

Again in the Mozart Piano Quartet in F minor, op. 2 which followed came the same disquiet. Also written in 1785, one of his only two piano quartets, the Mozart work was clearly that of a master in his prime. The ease and grace of melody and form, the serenity, but with always the feeling of deep power and uncompromising integrity. Yet why was this quality not fully transmitted? Was it the acoustics, I wondered, barely able to hear the viola, usually given such rich parts by Mozart, the violist. I didn't blame a man nearby who went to sleep.

Julia Millen