Vítězslav Novák (1870-1949)
String Quartet No.1 in G major, Op.22 (1899)
String Quartet No.2 in D major, Op.35 (1905)
String Quartet No.3 in G major, Op.66 (1938)
Stamic Quartet
rec. March and September 2024, Evangelical Church at Jacob’s Ladder, Prague
Supraphon SU 4367-2 [81]

The venerable Stamic Quartet has made the first complete recording of the cycle of Vítězslav Novák’s three String Quartets. The group may not be as technically robust as of old but its understanding of the expressive contours of these very different works, which span nearly four decades, is as admirable as ever.

The First Quartet dates from 1899 and is drenched in Moravian folklore, though one that’s a world away from Janáček’s astringency. Novák cleaves more to Dvořák’s lead, writing music that’s fulsome, romantic and that dances. That’s notably true in the central movement which is graced by Jan Pěruška’s viola solo and by a delightful rustic dance. The finale encodes the slow movement in its opening Andante mesto but shifts quickly to include some Slovakian material – Novák was an avid ethnomusicologist – and a resumption of effusive folklore. It’s all beautifully done. If I have a reservation about the Stamic performance, it’s that it’s slightly too leisurely. Both the Suk and Novák Quartets take it a good two minutes quicker and whilst that might not seem much, a faster tempo papers over structural cracks and there are a few, however delightful the G major Quartet may be.

In 1905 he wrote an intriguing bipartite Quartet, where a Fugue is followed by a Fantasia. Novák described the effect of his fugal writing as being when one is ‘lying in the woods on soft moss and watching how white clouds sail across the blue sky between the tops of spruce trees.’  So, there’s nothing pedagogic or aggressive about this fugal movement – rather it flows with effortless intimacy. The Fantasia provides the restless counterpoint to this leisurely nature depiction, suggesting a hectic urban cityscape. The music is unsettled and urgent until it gently succumbs to lyricism and reflection and a resumption of elysian pleasures. Fortunately, this performance is a good deal more incisive than that of the Kubin Quartet on Centaur, though I wish the Janáček Quartet’s old recording were still available.

The final quartet dates from 1938 and is an altogether darker work, once again cast in two panels. The opening movement is sprightly, attractive and healthy, subtly including a fugue but it’s followed by a gloomy Lento doloroso – urgent, sour, dissonant and uneasy. For much of its length the music’s density and grudging-trudging quality is very much reflective of its time. It’s only in the last few minutes that warmer elements infiltrate things, ending the quartet in an accommodation between unease and hopefulness. The only previous recording that I’m aware of is by the Vlach Quartet, back on a 1972 Panton LP and never transferred to CD.

As with their recordings of the quartets of Foerster and Kovařovic, the Stamic continues to make a strong case for its native chamber repertoire. The recording is good though a touch steely and the notes are instructive. The Third Quartet is one of Novák’s least-known and least-recorded works, which is reason enough to interest collectors, but the whole cycle is a admirable journey through the composer’s life, from light to darkness, but one modified by hope.

Jonathan Woolf              

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