Unlike so many discs devoted to music by victims of the Holocaust, Capriccio's cover artwork includes a thoroughly 1990s publicity shot of the players enjoying themselves. This sounds incongruous but it's arguably more in keeping with the character of Schulhoff's knockabout, recognizably 1920s music than the usual grim images. The effect is somewhat compromised by the peculiar claim that the present performances constitute some kind of world premiere.
Even if we discount the generous Schulhoff selection derived from Lockenhaus concerts (Philips (CD) 434 038-2PH), there is still an excellent studio recording of the First String Quartet on the Northeastern label (see page 64). The contrast between the Hawthorne and Peterson Quartets is instructive. The young extroverts of the German-based group are a good deal faster in all four movements. Not so much concerned to produce a euphonious sound, they search out and play up the acerbic, modernistic elements in this typically motoric yet occasionally elegiac score. If that means the odd patch of less than perfect intonation, so be it. I can imagine some listeners actually preferring their bracing, playful approach. The Prokofievian 'tick tock' of the fourth movement works well enough at the swifter tempo, even if the underlying pathos is rather lost. The real drawback is the very immediate recording: while there is some space around the sound, close microphone placing lends a steely edge to the first violin and the overall effect can be rather harsh. The Five Pieces dedicated to Milhaud are folkish miniatures reminiscent of Bartok, the first of them a three-legged waltz in 4/4.
The Second Quartet is made of sterner stuff, well worth getting to know if the short playing time is not too much of a disincentive. Its second movement goes deeper than anything else on the CD, but the players again seem most at ease in the jazzier passages.'