When I was learning my ‘late’ Beethoven back in the mid-late 1960s, the Amadeus Quartet provided the stereo benchmark, with the Budapest (not currently available complete) and the Busch Quartet (then only available as an LP import) leading the mono stakes. The Quartetto Italiano’s performances arrived a little later and I can remember finding their stoical self-containment a little off-putting. It was almost as if they were attempting to moderate Beethoven’s sense of daring. Listening now to, say, their version of the scherzo from Op 127, with its muscular attack and vividly gauged dynamics, one can appreciate afresh the clarity of the Italians’ thinking, the thoroughness of their preparation.
But turn to the Busch, or indeed the Amadeus, and the ‘wild things’ of Beethoven’s imagination suddenly take flight, especially in the madcap Trio, which sounds as outrageous to us as it must have done to those few privileged souls who witnessed its earliest public performances. And yet the ‘Klemperean’ architecture of these Philips performances remains impressive, notably in Op 127’s opening, where, aside from its breadth, the sheer beauty of sound is seductive and the blending of voices immaculate.
It’s a pity that Op 130 doesn’t end with the intended Grosse Fuge, especially as the long first-movement repeat seems to cry out for a counterpart ‘grand finale’. The middle movements are variously successful, the measured Presto perhaps the best, the Alla danza tedesca heavy-handed, the Cavatina, though profoundly musical in its phrasing, cooler than some.
The Grosse Fuge’s introduction is fuelled by a sense of suspense (the quiet opening of the allegro is quite magical), leading to a very weighty statement of the first leg of the fugue. At around 5'31 there’s a curious tapping effect, as if one of the violinists is playing a quiet, momentary col legno. You can also hear a nearby car setting off, and if you’re listening on headphones be warned: distant traffic is an occasional distraction, sure proof I suppose that the refurbishment has liberated every shred of detail from the original tapes.
Opp 131 and 132 receive the finest performances in the set. The sublime centre of the A minor’s molto adagio is a high point (the epic tempo chosen falling within a couple of seconds of the equally expansive Busch Quartet) and I love the subtle segue between Op 131’s first two movements. My only reservation about Op 135 is that the scherzo, though crystal-clear, is marginally too slow and the Lento just a fraction too swift (8'10 compared to the Busch’s 10'31), but the outer movements, especially the first, are superbly characterised.
Weighing the relative virtues of ‘historic’ alternatives is next to impossible. All have much to offer, which is why it’s so difficult – even foolhardy – to name an overall ‘best ever’. I suppose the Busch Quartet come closest to that ideal. Their passion, composure and visionary zeal never fail to inspire, though the more temperate Quartetto Italiano have insights all their own. Even if you don’t agree with every bar of their interpretations, you cannot fail to learn from them