Sonata for solo cello - Kodaly
String Quintet in C - Schubert
About to go under the surgeon's knife at the age of 93, the great pianist Arthur Rubinstein requested that he be played Mozart's String Quintet in G minor as he emerged from the anaesthetic. If he heard instead the slow movement from Schubert's String Quintet, he joked, then he would know that he had died and gone to heaven.
The association of death with certain of Schubert's slow movements is by no means new, or indeed unique to Rubinstein. But it's an association that hardly entered one's mind at the performance of the Quintet on Thursday night at St Canice's Cathedral in Kilkenny.
The five players in the ensemble - Christine Busch and Priya Mitchell (violins), Anna Lewis (viola) and Jean Guihen and Gesine Queyras (cellos) - sounded about as well-bred as you could imagine, deferring to each other with unfailing politeness and accommodating musician ship.
The delights of the performance were many. The players' ability to disappear into each others' sounds was remarkable, with many of the instrumental doublings blending to create the effect of just a single voice. In the process, some of the darker shadings were lost, and the lightness of the approach was felt emotionally as well as tonally.
The pair of cellos simply never went into that overdrive which usually provides this piece with one of its most distinctive flavours, and the other-worldliness of the slow movement was not keenly felt. Rubinstein would have known himself to be still on earth if he heard this Adagio - though the later Trio might have given him a thought or two about ultimate journeys.
Jean-Guihen Queyras's approach to Kodaly's Solo Cello Sonata, the greatest landmark in the solo cello repertoire since Bach, was also measured and sober. Earlier this year, at the ESB Vogler Spring Festival, Torleif Thedeen gave a rash and sometimes rough account of this uniquely impassioned work. Queyras retained a composure and note-accuracy that the wilder Thedeen didn't quite manage. The Swede frequently overshot the mark, but in a way that was deeply suggestive. He seemed possessed by the music. With the disciplined Queyras, it was always the performer who remained in possession. The piece itself is strong enough to offer rich rewards from either approach. The pleasure of hearing both was substantial.
