View Review

Borodin Quartet
Russian Legacy

Borodin Quartet Review

Margot Hannigan, The Nelson Mail

8 March 2010

The Borodin Quartet more than lived up to their formidable reputation as the world’s most enduring quartet.  They deserve all the reverence and accolades they receive.

Despite their differing ages, they are all graduates of the Moscow Conservatory, and play with a passionate commitment to continuing the Russian tradition. Straight-backed Ruben Aharonian is Armenian. Second violinist Andrei Abramenkov, the oldest and most experienced member, shows no mellowing with age, and the more youthful violist Igor Naidin and cellist Vladimir Baishin were fully equal partners.

Without preamble or unnecessary introduction, they sat down and played Aleksandr Borodin’s deservedly popular Quartet No 2 in D – a beautiful, loving tribute to his wife, so full of tenderness and sweetness, especially in the cello melodies.

The first movement began with appropriate restraint of feeling, building in intensity through the lively tempo of the scherzo, and leading us to the divine Nocturne with its passionate dialogue between violin and cello, above the deep resonance of second violin and viola.

Many times I have posed questions to myself about the forth movement. But the Borodin Quartet’s interpretation eradicated my doubts.  With their agitation, light and shade, and frequent lack of vibrato, they expressed the inevitable conflict between lovers, their separation and pleading communications, before their final reunion. It was as if I had heard the quartet for the first time.

Shostakovich wrote the greatest Russian string quartets, and his Eighth Quartet in C Minor was written over three days during a visit to Dresden in 1960.  Dresden had been completely devastated by vengeful Allied bombing raids – destruction far worse than even that in Shostakovich’s home city, St Petersburg.

This quartet is his most personal and most universal.  It is dedicated to the memory of victims of war and fascism.

It begins with sombre sadness – a fragile melody above deep, continuous, emotional chords, expressing desolation and hopeless despair.  It then breaks into rhythms of fearful flight and menacing terror, disturbingly raising the pulse of the audience. The Allegretto continues without a break into a macabre waltz, a dance of insanity along an inescapable precipice.  Apparent melody is often interrupted by interrogating sounds like the piercing pizzicato from the second violin, and the strangulated voice of the cello.  All dissolves into an even deeper, descending sadness, lifting into a meaningful monotone from the violin, sustained in muted canon by the cello, and dying away to a moment of complete silence throughout the auditorium.

I felt so moved that I questioned whether I could stay after the interval to listen to more. But I did, and was uplifted by the performance of Tchaikovsky’s First Quartet in D.

This was inspired by a Russian fold song. The famous Andante Cantibile was played with such sweet sentiment, and the rousing finale was full of humour and incredible technical skill, the four musicians catching the furious tempo changes, never faltering.

A thrilling flourish to end a perfect programme of the best of Russian chamber music.  What a fine way to celebrate the 60th anniversary of Chamber Music New Zealand.

return to artists biography