Peter Quantrill Richard, you’ve got under the skin of this music as a cellist, whereas I have only the experience of my ears and eyes, listening at least to rehearsals as well as performances. I think most of us can’t grasp the time and skill that goes into detail such as articulating the falling semiquaver phrases on the opening page of Op 135, both in terms of deciding how to do them, and then making that happen.

Richard Bratby It’s true, I’ve had the privilege of playing – or rather, attempting to play – these works, and having retired, vanquished, from the fray, I can’t think of many other works that so comprehensively vindicate that old line about music that’s better than it can ever be played. When Rob Cowan reviewed this set in 2005 he noted that the Takács Quartet is using the then-new Henle edition: perhaps that heightened the players’ alertness to those details of articulation. That being so, it’s not so much the Takács’s technical polish that astounds, as their absolute assurance that where they are in any given moment is exactly where they need to be.

PQ It is possible, isn’t it, to make too light of Op 135 (apart from the Lento assai), and to miss the spirit of sublime levity that it shares with the Diabelli Variations? In this regard the focus of András Fejér’s cello is an asset from the outset. It keeps our ears grounded.

RB ‘Sublime levity’ is exactly the phrase: a kind of divine play, a delight in creation that’s both intellectual and emotional. Like any great adventure, it shouldn’t be without risk; I love that sense of raw power under perfect control in the scherzo.

PQ When I heard the Takács in this repertoire in concert, around a decade ago, their distinctions of staccato struck me as carefully done to the point of fussiness. Coming back now to Op 135, it’s not always easy to tell whether they are playing the first movement too straight, or as a parody of 18th-century manners. The violence of their contrasts in the scherzo – the ferociously committed bowing, so hard to achieve in the studio – inclines me to the second interpretation. The sense of the piece reveals itself only gradually, which may be the point.

RB There just aren’t many loose threads here at which a critic can tug. These interpretations are alert, intelligent, superbly played, deeply grounded in tradition (and isn’t it remarkable how Fejér has served as a conduit to that tradition through all the Takács’s incarnations, without ever sounding as if he’s imposing himself on his colleagues? No Berlinsky/Borodin-style commissariat of the bass-line here), yet always so keenly, alertly alive to Beethoven’s sudden shifts of musical perspective and tone of voice. And supremely so here in Op 135, which, as you say, is so easy to underestimate.

PQ Making the most of the studio environment to refine tonal unanimity in the Lento assai, while keeping a sense of flow and living its pathos in the here and now to pitch the work’s argument forwards to the finale – surely few other ensembles have managed this as the Takács do. And there’s their drawing together of threads in the Grosse Fuge.

RB Possibly that’s where these performances show their age – for me, at any rate. That level of certainty, in itself, feels slightly foreign now; the product of a more settled period in recent history. Or if that’s putting it too prescriptively, relistening to these performances has made me realise that somewhere between now and then, I’ve started looking for something different in Beethoven – I’ve come to prefer more chaotic readings: the improvisatory, the extreme, performances that take gambles that don’t always come off. Peter, you’ve reviewed more Beethoven on record, and more recently, than I have – is that your feeling too?

PQ I guess we both feel a centrifugal pull away from a ‘library’ choice in what should always be deeply ‘un-central’ music. It’s as though the Takács has absorbed the potential for fragility and risk in the opening lament of Op 131 so thoroughly that those elements no longer show on the surface of the music.

RB I’m glad you mentioned Op 131, because that first movement is one place where my concerns about the Takács’s assurance really do melt away in the presence of sheer beauty. I’d always tended to regard that opening Adagio as a sort of Via Crucis (perhaps that’s another reflection of my own attempts to play this music: it does not lie under the hand). The Takács unfold it as pure song, but truth is still truth; the fact that it’s revealed with finesse doesn’t alter that. Even if my current taste is for more instability, the knowledge that this approach is possible is something to cherish.

PQ There’s never been a shortage of Beethoven quartet recordings that live on their nerves, or sound as though they do, from the Végh Quartet of the 1950s, to the LaSalle and the Alban Berg of the ’70s, to the Elias and Belcea in our own time. By their side, my once-dependable companion of the Barylli Quartet, paragon of Viennese quartets, sounds safe and ‘central’ indeed. Even so, the line on record – rather than in concert – between spontaneous-sounding ‘chaos’ and distracting mannerism is all but invisible. Even the portamento of the reliably tasteful Takács members calls attention to itself now and then (in the Andante of Op 131?).

RB I know what you mean – though with almost all of Beethoven’s variation movements there’s usually a point where a certain archness is justified. You’re dead right about the line between spontaneity and mannerism. Towards the end of that movement – when it’s gone into 9/4, with Fejér grumbling and interjecting there at the bottom, Edward Dusinberre sounding so blissfully untroubled up at the top, and then all four of them blossoming into their little micro-cadenzas – I wonder whether that sort of quiet, smiling collective ecstasy could ever have been found if they were relying wholly on the impulse of the moment? It really is head, plus heart, plus transcendent technique. The whole package.

PQ For now, my preference in Op 135 runs to the Danish Quartet, who take, if anything, fewer risks or left-field choices, either rhythmically or tonally, certainly in comparison with the much-admired Ébène. Maybe my inclinations are safer than I thought! But then I return to the Takács in the Grosse Fuge, and find no shortage of danger as well as virtuosity in keeping up the pulse as they do. I can see them going at it in the mind’s eye, and in that sense they have completely resolved the age-old pull of tension between live and studio experiences.

RB As you say, it works on all those levels. And yet they’re also capable of such unforced subtlety. One of my favourite reference points is the ‘Heiliger Dankgesang’ in Op 132. Perhaps one difference between now and 2005 is that they’re using vibrato where a current group might be tempted to dispense with it. Here, it’s applied so delicately that there’s perfect transparency, as well as radiance. And the occasional double-stopped chords in the inner voices of the chorale are just touched-in – Károly Schranz and Roger Tapping play with such sensitivity that the slight intensification of colour is perfectly audible but never intrusive.

PQ Most recordings in this anniversary series have embodied the spirit of their age, whether consciously or not. Whether or not we’re too close to know what a ‘noughties’ recorded aesthetic would sound like if we could pin it down, I’m not sure, but the Takács’s Beethoven resists that kind of classification. Insofar as its central-tradition tonal palette and rhythmic security grow out of a Hungarian tradition stretching back decades, and they never make an ugly sound, then maybe they count as old-fashioned.

RB It’s interesting that you mention the spirit of the age. But as the Busch Quartet famously proved, a recording can be wholly of, and yet transcend, its time – and that might be the case here. Thinking back again to Cowan’s original review (see below), he was remarkably sparing in his words, noting that, ‘Attenuated inflections are honoured virtually to the letter, textures carefully differentiated, musical pauses intuitively well-timed and inner voices nearly always transparent.’ Beyond that, he moved swiftly to a conclusion, and reading between the lines I think it’s one with which we’d both agree – that these performances are incredibly hard to fault.

The original Gramophone review (Rob Cowan, May 2005)

Beethoven String Quartets – Nos 11-16. Grosse Fuge (Takács Quartet; Decca)

Interpreters of late Beethoven have to think hard; to convey what at times sounds like a stream of musical consciousness while respecting the many written markings. The Takács do better than most. For openers, they had access to the new Henle Edition and have made use of some textual changes. The Takács evidently appreciate this music both as musical argument and as sound. Attenuated inflections are honoured virtually to the letter, textures carefully differentiated, musical pauses intuitively well-timed and inner voices nearly always transparent. The Takács are conscientious without sounding overly reverential; they know how to ease the tempo momentarily with such subtlety that, unless you’re consciously analysing each phrase, you would never realise. As to their pooled tone, the overall impression is lean but expressive, with sweetness kept within bounds and only Fejér’s cello occasionally sounding reticent. Where Beethoven cues a savage attack, he gets it, but when the heart rules, the Takács take his lead there, too. These late quartets are the ultimate examples of music that is so great that no single sequence of performances could ever do them full justice. Still, this set comes close and completes one of the best available cycles, possibly the finest in an already rich digital market, more probing than the pristine Emersons or Alban Bergs (live), more refined than the gutsy and persuasive Lindsays, less consciously stylised than the Juilliards (and always with the historic Busch Quartet as an essential reference). At no point did I feel the Takács significantly wanting. They do Beethoven proud. 

This article originally appeared in the November 2023 issue of Gramophone. Never miss an issue – subscribe today