It was an imaginative idea to flank Dvorak's Czech-flavoured, turn-of-the-century view of the American outdoors with a pair of twentieth-century American quartets—the one, a passionate essay in musical dialogue, the other, a fairly radical study in proto-minimalism. There's an additional 'theme' in that Dvorak nourished his F major Quartet with 'American Indian-style' tunes and Glass flavoured his Quartet No. 1 with suggestions of Asian Indian music (for example, pizzicato cello glissandos). In fact, the Glass set me to thinking where this most controversial of minimalists might have ventured had his 1966 Quartet (the first of three to date) established the pattern of his future work. For although there are germs of process-music present, the Quartet's variegated character—a richly harmonized two-tier structure, punctuated by rests and with a lengthy 'ambient pause' between its movements—is fairly untypical of his later style. It actually reminded me more of Arvo Part than of mature Glass, with its quiet intensity and strategic use of timing. I enjoyed it a great deal and felt that the Duke Quartet enjoyed it too.
The Barber Quartet has the now highly popular Adagio at its core, yet its restless, rather Ivesian outer movements are hardly less attractive. Listening to it after the Dvorak highlights an honesty, sincerity and melodic sense common to both works, although Dvorak's easy tunefulness and breezy structure bespeak extra experience and a far more distinctive style. The Duke Quartet's performances are pert and lively, although Barber's Adagio suffers a momentary dip in pitch at around 4'34'' and the American's faster movements would have benefited from a more lilting touch. Ultimately, I'd opt for the Emerson Quartet in the former and the Smetana Quartet in the latter, but the Glass isn't otherwise available (at least not in this country) and its present programming context makes for a most engaging hour's listening.'