The Petersen Quartet’s account of Op. 131, coupled with Op. 18 No. 1 (Capriccio, 3/95) made a strong impression last year. As I said on its appearance, the Petersen possess “impeccable technical address, immaculate ensemble, flawless intonation and tonal finesse” in which, of course, they are not alone. Most of the quartets making records these days have similar credentials (none more so than the Emersons). Tempos are judged with impeccable musicianship, and dynamic markings are observed without being exaggerated. Their C minor Quartet, Op. 18 No. 4 is in a totally different league from the last two versions on which I recently reported, by the Kodaly and Cleveland Quartets respectively. The first movement has dramatic tension without loss of lyrical fervour; the Scherzo has wit and my only possible doubt is the Minuet, surely a bit too fast, though they do slow down for the trio. When we move to the A minor Quartet the sound-world changes as if youth has given way to wisdom and experience. They hardly put a foot wrong here and their Heiliger Dank-gesang, though a little faster than the Vegh, is no less rapt and inward-looking. They press ahead fractionally in one or two places – on the reprise of the main section in the second movement and when the main theme returns in the finale. But one or two minor reservations apart, what I wrote of their Op. 131 applies equally here: theirs is quite simply the most satisfying late Beethoven to have appeared in recent years. Above all the Petersen do not invite you to admire their prowess. They appear to be untouched by the three ‘g’s (Gloss, Glamour and Glitz) and their concern is with truth rather than beauty.
The difference between the two approaches on offer from DG and Nimbus respectively could hardly be more extreme. The Emerson present a high-gloss finish and offer playing of an altogether awesome virtuosity. There is no question as to their extraordinary power and flawless precision. As quartet playing it is phenomenal, incredible and dazzling: as music-making it is something else! It is all so high-powered that we rather lose sight of the actual substance of the music in our awareness of the beauty and skill of its presentation. And, let me hasten to add, there is much that is beautiful. The slow movement of Op. 18 No. 3 is one such instance even though some may find it, as I do, a bit on the fast side. The finale has miraculous precision, the articulation is so clean and the dynamics so sharply defined that criticism seems almost an impertinence.
In the Op. 130 Quartet, one is left admiring the quality of the Emerson’s playing though surely their sforzatos and their split-second, almost machine-like precision are exaggerated. Try the passage at the second Allegro marking in the first movement (track 5, 1'38'' - 2'29'') and you will find the first of many instances of them going into overdrive. To me this playing, for all its wonders, remains at variance with the sensibility of the period and above all of late Beethoven. There is great intelligence and tremendous power but such is the jet-engine thrust of their playing that I was surprised not to hear a request for us to remain with our belts fastened until the Grosse Fuge had come to a complete standstill and the leader had switched off the ‘fasten seat-belts’ sign.
With the Brandis Quartet we are in a more humane world and there is a sense that Beethoven lived when and where he did rather than in Manhattan. Tempos are more measured and nothing is overdriven. The second movement (at 2'12'') sounds refreshingly vital and unforced as opposed to the Emersons (1'49'') who are off to Mars like a shot. All in all, the Brandis offer a well-thought-out and cultured account which does not eclipse existing recommendations but can hold its own against most comers. The Brandis offer the Grosse Fuge as finale, following it with the second finale that Beethoven later substituted so that readers can programme their machines accordingly. The Emersons give us only the Grosse Fuge and not Beethoven’s final thoughts.'