Like Schubert, Dvorak turned to the string quartet early in his career, but in neither case is that a cue for lyrical flights on the subject of 'lifelong affinities'. Both had one sound practical reason for choosing this medium at the start of their careers: it was relatively easy to get quartet music played. The three complete quartets included in Vol. 1 (Nos. 1-3) show considerable facility in writing for strings (after all, Dvorak was a violinist), but it took him some time to arrive at a fully idiomatic quartet style: the first movement of No. 2 for instance wouldn't lose much by being orchestrated. Dvorak also had to learn to rein in his natural expansiveness: the Third Quartet spins out its modest material to an astonishing 70 minutes—the first movement alone is longer than the whole American Quartet! The outer movements of the No. 4 in E minor (Vol. 2) show him concentrating admirably, though the later shortened version of the central Andante religioso (popular as the Nocturne for strings) is a considerable improvement.
So the interest of Vol. 1 (three discs) is largely musicological. Despite this, with playing so fresh and authoritative even the impossibly long-winded Third Quartet has rewards to offer. If I understand the accompanying booklet correctly, the Prague Quartet have played all these works in concert before making their recordings—it certainly sounds as though they have. Each performance has a strong sense of purpose, but that doesn't mean an inability to enjoy all those charming Dvorakian byways. Sometimes it's rather like being taken on a tour of a rich, fertile landscape by someone who knows and loves every tiny detail. Technically the playing is admirable, though I was surprised at the awful intonal scrunch at the climax of No. 1's slow movement (from 3'56'')—very untypical.
Nevertheless, the enjoyment increases strongly through Vol. 2. The violin cavatina in the Andante of the Fifth Quartet (disc 4, track 5) has just the right gentle lilt—recommended to the unconverted. Listening to the Prague in the fine first movement of No. 7 one realizes how what looks on the page like very simple music can come glowingly to life in the right hands—and I was very impressed by the way they handle the slightly tricky poco piu mosso at the second subject. The finest work in Vol. 2 (discs 4-6) is undoubtedly the D minor Quartet, No. 9. According to Paul Griffiths in The String Quartet (Thames and Hudson: 1983) it was ''written to impress Brahms''; it certainly impresses me. The Prague Quartet could perhaps have put a little more passion into the finale, but the performance as a whole has the combination of naturalness and concentration that characterizes almost everything in this set.
Volume Three contains three gems: the E flat Quartet (No. 10), the American and No. 13 in G—the outstanding work of the collection. In the Prague's No. 13 I noticed something I sensed in one or two other places: an apparent reluctance to cultivate a real pianissimo. All the same, they're usually very sensitive to dynamic contrast (Dvorak's markings are often surprisingly detailed). I've already suggested one good sample extract; another might be the opening of the G major's slow movement (disc 8, track 6); strong, intense playing here, and fine command of long phrasing—and what marvellous music! Why is it so rarely heard? Instead of dishing out yet another American, why don't some of our younger quartets tackle this masterpiece?
So don't let the size of this set put you off. There's plenty of fine music on these nine well-filled discs, all of it more than adequately performed. Recordings too are generally creditable—though the cello's sudden step backstage at the end of No. 4's Andante is perplexing; surely those elaborate runs should be the centre of attention? A small problem though. Buy and enjoy—only make sure you leave Vol. 1 until you've heard what Dvorak can really do.'