Concert Review         Los Angeles Piano Quartet Had A Triumphant Return

By Wendy Wipprecht

One of the finest chamber ensembles in America came to Newtown last week. The Los Angeles Piano Quartet, which tours throughout North America and has performed in many of the great halls of Europe, came to Edmond Town Hall on Sunday, March 9, for a concert put on by Newtown Friends of Music. The quartet has appeared at Friends of Music concerts twice before, each time to rave reviews, so its return was eagerly anticipated.

The members of the quartet are Michi Wiancko (violin), Katherine Murdock (viola), Steven Doane (cello), and Xak Bjerken (piano).

The concert began with a short piece, Phantasy Quartet in F-sharp minor by Frank Bridge. This British composer was born in 1879 in Brighton, the tenth of twelve children. His father, a theater orchestra conductor, was his first violin teacher. The Phantasy in F-sharp minor was written in 1910 for a competition designed to revive the “Fancy,” an Elizabethan musical form, for the new century. The Fancy (the English equivalent of a Fantasia) is a short work in one part, preferably constructed as a palindrome.

Bridge’s Phantasy, true to the form,  features a sprightly central allegro section that is flanked by two main parts in andante. These andante sections are very romantic and flowing, and might easily be taken for Brahms. This lovely short work, by a composer probably unfamiliar to many in the audience, was a delightful surprise.

The Los Angeles Piano Quartet is known for its exploration of interesting repertoire, and this work by Bridge proves the point. I imagine many in the audience have already put Bridge on their “must listen to” lists.

The second work, Antonin Dvorak’s Piano Quartet in D Major, Op 23, was a surprise of a different sort. Most of us think of Dvorak as a composer of orchestral works, but his chamber music is at last beginning to receive the attention it deserves.

Dvorak was born into a Bohemian peasant family in what is now the Czech Republic. His father, a butcher and innkeeper, played the zither at local weddings and dances; young Antonin accompanied him on the violin. In 1875, the 34-year-old  composer, then working as a violist in the National Theater of Prague, won the Austrian State Prize for young, gifted, impoverished artists, which freed him to compose a number of chamber works, including the Opus 23 Piano Quartet.

The first movement, Allegro moderato, begins with a wistful, nostalgic theme stated in the cello, and unfolds languidly. The lyrical second theme, derived from a figure in the first, emerges. The two are combined vigorously in the coda.

The second movement, Andantino, is in variation form. The theme is mournful but fluid; the variations add more movement and brightness, and seem to be dances trying to be born. The movement ends with a plaintive coda that is so melodically powerful and intense that it may be seen as the quartet’s climactic moment.

The last section combines a scherzo and finale into one movement, but retains a two-part structure. Each part has its own theme and its own tempo. As in the second movement, one hears dances being played: the scherzando is a quiet, waltz-like dance, and the agitato a rousing jig. The second half of the program consisted of only one work: Johannes Brahms’s Piano Quartet in G minor, Op 25. It is probably the most popular of the three quartets Brahms wrote for piano and strings. Although Brahms began work on the piece in 1856 or 1857, it was not performed until 1861.

The first movement, Allegro, is bold, expansive, and inventive. The principal subject is divided into two contrasting parts: the first, a serene, poised melodic line, and a second based on a descending melodic step. While the strings are playing a repetition of the first motif, the piano tosses off a four-note figure that seems to lead to the second theme played by the cello. But it is only an anticipation of the real second theme, which is played by the violin and viola in unison.  The section moves toward its end with an agitated, intense closing theme and a recapitulation in which the earlier motifs are explored and expanded.

Brahms originally called the gentle, wistful second movement Scherzo, but changed its title to Intermezzo, probably because it was nothing like the fast, rough scherzos of Haydn or Beethoven. The veiled tone color of the section is partly owing to the use of a mute to muffle the sound of the violin. A slightly faster trio follows. Brahms then returns to the opening parts, ending with a short coda based on the trio.

The third movement is dominated by a melody that is at once broadly expressive and bold. In the middle of this romantic effusion, Brahms draws us up short with a sharp contrast – a march-like interlude that sounds like nothing so much as a parade of toy soldiers. The viola and cello set things right and return to the noble initial melody for a varied reprise of the opening.

Despite the beauty and charm of the preceding movements, it is the boisterous Rondo alla Zingarese (Rondo in Gypsy Style) that captivates most audiences. This movement shows the folk influence – not German, in this case – that was so important in Brahms’s music. (Brahms encountered Gypsy music when Hungarian refugees passed through  Hamburg after the uprising of 1848. He was only 15 at the time.)

There are four distinct themes in this movement, all of them technical workouts at high speed for all players, but especially for the violin and piano. The first theme is referred to in each new theme, and at the end of the movement with its brilliant molto presto finish.

The audience immediately rose to its feet. The Brahms quartet is a stunning work, and it has that irresistible last movement, but what drew us out of our seats was the sheer artistry of the Los Angeles Piano Quartet. The March 9 concert was not on the  surface wildly various – three European works in the Romantic tradition, composed within 60 years of each other – but  each was complex, demanding, and called for a full range of a musician’s powers of expression. The playing was so beautiful, and so absorbing, that one could lose track of  everything else. Their performances have been described as exhilarating, and I can now say that the word is not being misused.

The Quartet kindly returned to the stage for an encore. Steven Doane announced that the quartet was going to try  a new encore out on us, and identified it, informally, as a Dvorak Bagatelle – “the last one.” He explained that it was composed in a house where there was no piano, only a harmonium, so we would have to imagine the harmonium. So much for the prose. What followed was a very short, elegant, delicate little piece that was only a few minutes long. (A bagatelle is, by definition, a trifle, and also a piece of verse or music in a light style.)

Coming immediately after the sound and fury of the Rondo alla Zingarese, it demonstrated how quickly and completely the quartet could change gears. It was an amazing demonstration of delicacy and skill.

When the Bagatelle ended, a very soft but discernible sound arose from the audience. It was something like a muted “Ah,” a sound of pleasure. It was remarkable, and it was spontaneous. It was followed, of  course, by the more customary response, applause.