It is strange when Arnold has been such a prolific and imaginative symphonist, and when he has also written many chamber works for wind, that he has been so reluctant to write string quartets. He has been credited with the remark—maybe flippantly delivered—that he does not like the sound of a string quartet. If that is so, these two fascinating examples belie the idea. He is more authoritatively quoted as saying in 1963 to the Canadian composer and teacher, Murray Schafer, that he regarded his First Quartet as the finest of his works up to that date. He had written it no less than 14 years earlier in 1949, and one assumes his high opinion of it reflected the tautness of argument, concentrated to the point of density, quite distinct from most Arnold. It is in four compact movements, with repeated-note figures prominent in the first two, an easy Allegro commodo and a dazzling scherzo. The 6/8 Andante of the third movement then carries the work's main emotional weight, a lyrical, rarefied piece with echoes of Bartok's Sixth Quartet and the Music for strings, percussion and celesta in its bitonal implications. Hugo Cole in his major study of Arnold's music (Faber: 1989) finds the finale disappointing after that, but in this performance there is charm and point in an obviously more relaxed rounding-off.
The Quartet No. 2 dates from 1975, a more formidable piece, which brings surprises very characteristic of Arnold. So the tough and energetic first movement with its helter-skelter sequence of selections resolves at the end in a warmly lyrical passage decked in sumptuously tonal harmony fit for a pop tune. You suddenly wonder how Arnold got there, but somehow in retrospect you feel confidence in his purpose from the start. The second movement starts with a long solo cadenza for the first violin, which then launches into an Irish reel, soured and disturbed by the other three instruments. The slow movement is warm and easeful in its lyricism, but behind that there is poignancy in its spare, hushed simplicity, leading to a moment of total repose at the end. The finale is in two main sections, with a 9/8 Allegretto dominated by a gentle modal tune leading to a demonic dance, an offbeat jig. Then, as in the first movement, the movement is resolved in a warmly tonal concluding passage, when the modal tune reappears in a firm D major. It is amazing that such inventive works have been neglected on disc for so long. In first-rate performances, very well-recorded, they make an excellent, if ungenerous coupling. I am only sorry that the Phantasy Quartet, a very early work written at high speed for the Cobbett Prize in 1941, never published but described in intriguing detail by Hugo Cole in his book, was not included as well.'