This disc completes the Berg's latest survey of Mozart's ten mature quartets; and, like its predecessors, it leaves me with mixed feelings. It is impossible not to admire the group's astonishing technical address, their tonal richness and finesse and the (almost infallible) precision of their ensemble and intonation. And, as always, their performances on the new disc show every sign of meticulous preparation. Too meticulous, perhaps. At times I found myself longing for a more natural, spontaneous-sounding approach, with less consciously moulded phrasing and a less dynamic projection of the music. In the outer movements of the Hunt, for instance, the brilliance, panache and urgency of the playing are undeniably exciting. But too often I find the Berg a touch fierce and relentless, short on grace and wit—lighter articulation would help here, as would more true piano playing; and the way the leader throws off rapid semiquaver passages (as at 0'43'' in the first movement) sometimes smacks of slick virtuosity. The Minuet is too heavy for my taste, with over-emphatic accentuation in the trio. And while the Adagio is done with immense tonal refinement and a sensitive awareness of the profound issues at stake (listen to the hushed, mesmeric intensity of the second theme, from 1'52''), it suffers from the leader's recurrent tendency to over-inflected phrasing—take the C minor passage beginning at 0'48'', which, with its little stresses and bulges, sounds distinctly mannered to me. At a rather broader tempo the Quartetto Italiano, on Philips, give a more burdened, introspective reading of this movement, the most searching I know on disc.
My reservations grew with the wonderful E flat Quartet, placed second on this disc. Superlative as their playing is, the Berg's forceful attack and tonal opulence can seem at odds with music that so often turns its gaze inward. And the Minuet is a shade nervy and ungainly, with an intermittent tendency to press the tempo. As for the Andante, its con moto qualification is certainly observed with a vengeance. And if both the Chilingirian (CRD) and the Italians are arguably too slow here, the Berg strike me as too fast and matter-of-fact, and the quality of their piano playing too robust, to convey the full mystery and disquiet of Mozart's astonishing chromatic textures. And as elsewhere on these discs, but more consistently, I was conscious here of a slightly over-dominant first violin, with the three lower voices in the intricate part-writing telling less than they can—and do on both of the alternative versions.
As usual the Berg are rather closely recorded in a resonant church acoustic, emphasizing their distinctly public stance in this music. Regular readers will by now hardly need reminding of the virtues of the Chilingirian and the Italians, both of whom draw me more deeply into these works than the Berg. The Chilingirian's gentle, unforced eloquence and sharp ear for inner detail pay particular dividends in K428, though their Hunt may strike some as a bit low on adrenalin. If I was cruelly confined to just one version it would have to be the Italians, with their glorious, burnished tone quality (which some, I know, find too ripe for Mozart) and rich response to each work's specific character, above all their far-seeing profundity in the two slow movements.'