Fauré: String Quartet in E minor, Op.121 (1924)
Allegro moderato
Andante
Allegro
At first this may seem an extraordinary, perplexing, elusive, and difficult piece of music: for the quartet player (unless s/he has experience of the second piano quintet) it requires the digesting and mastering of a totally new and unusual idiom – there is no other work quite like it in the entire repertoire. Themes seem tenuous and meandering, and have a habit of petering out inconclusively; textures tend to be concentrated towards the middle of the range, making it awkward to trace the leading voice; overall shape is hard to define and project, mainly because of the above points, but also because of the problem of identifying key centres – which, after all, is one of the principal means of finding one’s way round even the most complex of sonata structures.
The listener may equally feel in foreign territory, although the avid visitor to the concert room might well claim some advantage through familiarity with the late song cycles – eg Le Jardin Clos or L’Horizon Chimérique – or more likely the last few Nocturnes and Barcarolles for piano. Even the most intimate knowledge of his best loved work, the Requiem, will only be of partial help, since this was composed at a much earlier stage of his career – a career which seemed fundamentally concerned with a gradual refining and economising, stripping away all excess rhetoric and indulgence, the sublimating of his Art to the highest intellectual and moral ideals (not that he always conducted his private life along the same lines…..). A feeling for this process can be grasped by a quick comparison of this meditative and austere string quartet with the intensely lyrical and passionate (and far more familiar) first piano quartet. Fauré was rarely a composer of an inherently dramatic or theatrical disposition – lovers of the Requiem will know that he had no pretensions there to being a Berlioz or a Verdi. So even though he had composed chamber music regularly throughout his life it was quite natural that during his last eight years he should have been particularly drawn towards that most intimate medium for musical expression: and it was the string quartet, written not long before his death, which proved to be the final utterance of a series which also included a violin sonata (No.2), two cello sonatas, a piano quintet (No.2), and the piano trio.
Fauré’s musical style is essentially one of inward communion, so the listener may need to work hard if s/he is not to feel “excluded”. So what is there to look forward to during the next twenty five minutes?! Certainly (if this is to be a first encounter) there will be the experience of something new and different, which in itself should be engaging and stimulating. But a more profound, lasting impression might be of a rare and precious glimpse into an ordered, civilised world of elegance and serenity, where subtle understatement takes the place of spectacular thrills, where the archaic principles of canon replace the more obviously sensual bed of lush harmony and colour. Always concentrate on the melodic lines, for in them lies the essence of this music. Often they clash, producing dissonances which are not always resolved. But these are incidental, arising naturally out of the polyphony, and are not specifically intended to startle or offend. In any case, it should not be forgotten that this is twentieth century music, and that The Rite of Spring, Pierrot Lunaire, and Washington’s Birthday were old hat by then! But be assured that we the performers take the ultimate responsibility of guiding you through all of this….
The quartet opens with a sinewy gesture of declamation by the solo viola; but this is not to be the ultimate course of the piece, since it is the appealing tenderness of the violin’s softly feminine reply which is the more persuasive voice in their dialogue. The Andante is like a long, peaceful dream, its endless melodies flowing undisturbed through a terrain of distilled beauty. The improvisatory nature of these sounds almost conjures up an image of Fauré himself, ruminating pensively in the organ loft at the Madeleine, his fingers idly wandering through all manner of strange tonal regions. There is little outward contrast between the three sections of the quartet, yet the finale sets off with real purpose and resolve, helped along by a pizzicato rhythm which later becomes almost obsessive. In this movement the contours and formal design are perhaps more readily assimilable; and although there is a brief lull in the activity near the end this is soon proved to have been an effective springboard for the final paean of festive fanfares which brings this fascinating composition – and also its creator’s output – to its confident conclusion.
© Alan George
