The Plight of Overlapping Passions: Beethoven and the Romantics by the Nash Ensemble
Risks seemed irresistible to the bewitched collective throughout last night's Wigmore Hall recital; synchronicity less so.
The Nash Ensemble. Credit: www.nashensemble.org.uk
Breathlessness abounds in restless 19th-century sounds: slow tremolo-filled sighs of zest-filled orchestras and trance-like dances; cellos’ crests arresting devil-may-care prances. In its rapture no dichotomy confines a chorus to a mortal home: the everyman is made a god through music’s hubris.
Burning to take turns imbuing the insuperable, ensembles are left itching to outstrip the strictures spurred by nature – only to succumb to helpless flaws.
Embarking on the Emperor Waltz of Johann Strauss for the recital’s opening piece at Wigmore Hall, the Nash Ensemble seemed to race to outpace one another in the strings’ swift scaling of celestial steps. Amidst a steep ascent to the impenetrable blue the instruments fell out of place with the dishevelment of mermaid tresses in the deep: a texture too unneat to dress itself in beauty. Unrolling tones occasionally holed, first and second violinists Stephanie Gonley and Jonathan Stone seemed to overstep each other in a bid to reach elation; often hinging on slim slivers of vibrato in their affectation. As a result the waltz’s dainty melodies on flute were dealt brusque crunches in the form of rugged pizzicati and staccati prone to squabble.
Simon Crawford-Phillips wrapped piano chords in warm caresses in his careful handling of the pedal during Brahms’ Piano Quartet in G Minor – but was loath to lend arpeggios switching rhythms. In the “Allegro” anguish emerged rife in gashes at the fiddle of the first violinist, whose light-pressure bowing scampered like a scratchy record. Although Adrian Brendel crept in surreptitious themes on cello, they were frequently at odds with unsynched other strings. Tempestuousness split across the schism as the foursome fought diverging tempi in attempts to stress untampered passions.
Alternatively Brendel’s bashful notes became too precious in “Allegro ma non troppo” – in which Lawrence Power’s diffident viola could have likewise played more darkly. Skimpiness in texture kindled plaintiveness in strings in the third movement, “Andante con moto”, whose tinctures appeared tinged with stinginess. Although the “Rondo alla Zingarese” section favoured well-considered rhythms they were liable to drift off course. Crawford-Phillips’ crisp chromatic scales came scrumptiously untied but this was insufficient compensation for a set of strings exuding stopless strain.
In Beethoven’s Septet in E Flat the bassoonist Ursula Leveaux appeared to lag belabouredly behind her co-players. They nonetheless extended a much punchier array of punctuation in a well-prepared performance; tightening their rattling screws. Graham Mitchell’s double bass embodied augurous motifs, imbuing calm bars with a burly underbelly. Instilled in Beethoven’s more rigid rhythms, the musicians offered a performance this time half-restrained and button-lipped, abiding in an orderly obedience in battle with still-screechy violins.
Semiquavers under Gonley’s aegis swept with slickness through the fourth movement, “Tema con variazione”: a section gracefully enmeshed with mischief at the hands of Mitchell’s double bass. Returning to corrupt attacks throughout “Andante con moto alla Marcia – Presto”, the collective steered the work again into uncouth austereness; skirting near-collisions of unjoining notes as Richard Watkins’ horn spawned garbled tooting.
Overly inspired by the evening’s works, the Nash Ensemble couldn’t help surrendering to plucky spunk: incessant spikes of overeagerness that curbed Romantic beauty on this night.
The Nash Ensemble continues their series, Beethoven and the Romantics, until March 28th at Wigmore Hall.