I enjoyed these discs with more provisos than in most of the previous issues in the Kodaly's evolving Haydn cycle. As ever, their playing is mellow and spacious, quite devoid of surface gloss and brilliance, with honest, unforced phrasing and a touch of robust earthiness particularly apt in Haydn. The two divertimento-like quartets of Op. 2 (each with two minuets) are attractively done, especially the surprisingly eloquent, quasi-operatic F minor Adagio non troppo in No. 4, to which the leader brings a fine breadth and intensity of line. There could, I think, have been more contrast between the two minuets in each work—the puckish second minuet in No. 4, for instance, is a bit sedate, insufficiently differentiated from its leisurely, galant predecessor. I would also have preferred a blither, alfresco spirit in both finales—though the Kodaly's measured tempos, here and elsewhere, were no doubt partly dictated by the resonant church acoustic, which militates against total clarity and lends a slight fuzz to the sound picture.
In the isolated Op. 42, the sole survivor from a trio of short, easy quartets intended for Spain, the Kodaly's direct, ungilded approach is especially rewarding in the opening movement, marked innocentamente, and the luminous Adagio (blend and balance beautifully judged here). Again, the minuet is on the slow side, a touch heavy on its feet, while the finale, with its mock self-importance and fugal feints, is too po-faced—rhythms could have been crisper and the entries of the theme (especially from the slightly self-effacing cello) more incisive. Still, I certainly prefer the Kodaly to the rather anonymous—and less technically assured—playing from the Tatrai (part of a three-CD set).
The other disc contains three quartets from the great Op. 20 set, the climactic works of Haydn's first full maturity. Again, there are good things in the Kodaly's readings: the 'gipsy' minuet in No. 4, for instance, with its tangy cross-rhythms, the tragic weight of the corresponding movement of No. 5, and the leader's expressive line in the aria slow movement of No. 6. Yet in several of the faster movements I found the Kodaly, for all the warmth and sincerity of their playing, too comfortable, short on vitality, wit and dynamic variety. The opening movements of Nos. 4 and 6 both suffer in this respect. Each is marked Allegro di molto, with the added incentive scherzando in No. 6; but you'd hardly guess so from the Kodaly's sober, strait-laced performances. The rival Astree Auvidis version, from the Mosaiques on period instruments, immediately shows what is missing, with fleeter tempos, more energy (just compare the two groups' handling of the pervasive opening theme of No. 4's initial Allegro), more colour and dynamic contrast, and more freedom from the barline.
The Kodaly are also too worthy in the capricious final fugue of No. 6; and both here and in the much severer fugal finale of No. 5 they ignore Haydn's request—observed, with thrilling effect, by the Mosaiques—that the music be held down to sotto voce until just before the close. Another black mark is the Kodaly's omission of all second-half repeats in the variations of No. 4, thereby unbalancing the structure.
This new Naxos disc of the Op. 20 quartets certainly has its points, especially if you favour a leisurely, slightly old-world approach to the music; and at the price you can hardly go wrong. But it's hardly surprising if the Gramophone Award-winning Mosaiques emerge as clear winners in all three quartets; more vital, more fanciful and more searching: theirs is quite simply one of the most inspiring chamber-music releases of recent years.'