The Busch Quartet's recordings of Beethoven, greatly respected for a couple of generations, are well known; some have only recently been reissued by Preiser (11/93), so I chose to begin my investigation of this bumper box with the non-Beethoven items—particularly since it was I who reviewed their Mendelssohn Capriccio when it first came out. I find, as I did then, the piece's brilliantly dramatic fugue very hard-driven, with less than perfect ensemble because of Busch's frequent tendency to rush, but I withdraw my 1950 reservations about the balance, which now seems quite reasonable. (I must stress that the cleanly and vividly reproduced tone throughout this set is a tribute to the near-miracles performed in the transfer process, but I was amused that EMI have left in someone's accidental touching of a G string after the Mendelssohn's last note.)
High-powered playing is also evident in Schubert's B flat Quartet, which he wrote at the age of 17 ''in four-and-a-half hours'', according to him (though even he must surely have had some preliminary sketch or thought on this?). The performance is more notable for energetic efficiency than for affection or tenderness: the Menuetto (in fact a Landler) in particular is doggedly determined rather than light-hearted, and there is something slightly bizarre about Busch's staccato quavers in the finale (which foreshadows the Scherzo of the Great C major Symphony).
The earliest recording here is of Beethoven's E flat Violin Sonata, with Busch and the then 28-year-old Serkin, whose clean fingerwork and control command admiration. Although the 1931 sound makes Busch's tone thin and edgy, the spirit of the performance is irresistible. (I just wish they hadn't made an uncalled-for slowing-down for the eight bars in C flat before the first movement recapitulation, and that they had come to some agreement over the placing of the turn in the second bar of the Adagio's theme.) There is some tonal edginess in the Op. 95 Quartet too (recorded the I following year), whose first movement receives a | fine tense attack and is played with absolutely no I concession to romantic easings of pace anywhere: I there is some scrambling in the dotted figures of the I scherzo, but the final coda is splendid.
The sound of the Quartet undergoes a change—fuller and rounder in general—in the 1933 sessions. But except in Op. 135 Busch himself is allowed to dominate, with insufficient weight in the cello line (specially noticeable in the fugal finale of the Third Rasumovsky). Outstanding is the reading of Op. 18 No. 1, with great intensity of feeling in the Adagio and, for the most part, very exact observance of dynamic markings (though the Scherzo has a very indulgent interpretation of piano). The fleet humour of the finale, however, leads to some hurrying. The Rasumovsky also shows some slight instability of speed, not only in the Andante (which is scarcely con moto, quasi Allegretto) but also in the finale, which nevertheless has an enjoyable elan. Even more delicious is the scherzo of Op. 135—a real joy—before the Lento assai, taken so funereally slowly that it is astonishing that it manages to cohere, let alone allow of a still slower tread for the C sharp minor section.
The full stature of the Quartet's interpretations is to be found in the other late works (recorded in 112 Gramophone January 1995 1936 and 1937, now with perfect equality of balance between the instruments), which reveal a wholehearted dedication and a depth of perception that make these performances memorable. The rapt opening of the Op. 127's Adagio, and the slow movements, particularly the Heiliger Dankgesang of Op. 132 are magisterial. (It is interesting to note that, while most of the quartets even the immensely long Opp. 131 and 132—were recorded in a single day, Op. 127 had to be spread over four days.) But perhaps the apogee of their achievement is reached in the C sharp minor Quartet, which Beethoven himself regarded as his greatest, and which stands out as a formidable Everest in the history of the string quartet.'