It's unusual enough for a string quartet to pack out a concert hall, let alone to receive the kind of ovation that greeted the Alban Berg Quartet after the final chord of this exhilarating concert. But the reputation of the Viennese ensemble is formidable - some claim they are the best quartet in the world - and their regular appearances here at the South Bank have earned them a demonstrative body of London supporters.
Most of the crowd were probably there to hear Schubert's sweeping and melodious Quintet in C. Yet the less obviously listenable work that preceded it, Bartok's Sixth Quartet, made an interesting companion piece. One perhaps expects something discomfiting from Bartok, especially from a work written, like this one, at the outbreak of war and during a time of great personal unhappiness. What was more surprising was the light, or rather the shade, that it threw on the deceptively sunny Quintet.
The members of the Alban Berg Quartet, who have been together now for more than a quarter of a century, sounded at home with both composers. Essentially they are a band of equals. Cellist Valentin Erben is a player of sensitivity blessed with a fabulous-sounding instrument. Violist Thomas Kakuska and second violinist Gerhard Schulz are both fine soloists in their own right. Yet the leader, Günter Pichler, often emerges as a dominant character, his playing physically strong and never merely decorative. Often at moments of greatest emphasis he actually leaves his seat.
It seemed that Bartok's Sixth Quartet could have been written for these players; they made short work of its considerable technical demands, cutting through them to its unsettling heart. Moments of extreme turbulence coalesced into phrases of almost pastoral lyricism without losing impact, and even in the monstrous Burlesque movement the players never compromised on tone. The resulting performance was one that strung out the nerves.
Schubert's Quintet is often thought of as comfortable; this performance, though, was something of a revelation. Joined by cellist Heinrich Schiff, the players drew out the elements of the work that jar with its mellifluous surface. While the melodies of the first movement were as sweet as ever, they found the same kind of turbulence within the Adagio as in the Bartok, and the bars before the return of that movement's theme took on a real sense of desolation.
Schubert was only two weeks from death when he completed this score; many composers in similar positions have believed themselves to be writing their own requiem. We were made to feel that he could have created himself no more eloquent a memorial than this.
