In a suitably elegiac farewell to London, last night the Emerson String Quartet – retiring next year – took Shostakovich’s final journey into silence, playing his deeply introspective last three quartets to close their landmark five-part Southbank cycle. For most of the past four decades they have brought a distinctly Western emotion to this intensely Russian music. That has sometimes drawn some criticism: how can Americans truly understand the stark Russian sensibility that runs through every note of these quartets? But that misses the point: music does not exist in a nationalistic time capsule. It must live, breathe and be reborn. Besides, who could miss the message of these pieces when they are played so brilliantly?
Shostakovich’s quartets are seen as his personal diaries, vividly reflecting his persecution at the hands of the Soviet state. The last three, however, are dominated by his failing health; he knows that death is approaching. The Emersons took the quiet reflective opening of the single-movement String Quartet no. 13 in B flat minor from 1970 with measured grace, each long phrase interlocking with solemn inevitability, until interrupted by a cry of pain from the viola. This harsh interjection is taken up by the other players until a moment of relief arrives, signalled by a perky violin theme from Philip Setzer, with British cellist Paul Watkins adding a seductive pizzicato jazz bass line. Despair was never far away, with Shostakovich directing that the players should strike their instruments with their bows in frustration as death stalks nearer. He dedicated this work to the Beethoven Quartet’s viola player, Vadim Borisovsky. Lawrence Dutton dug deep in the closing pages, searing us with the harsh, heartfelt desolation of the viola’s final, bitter solo: big-boned, muscular playing of the highest order.
Eugene Drucker swapped places with Setzer for String Quartet no. 14 in F sharp major, his tone altogether sweeter, even in the darkest passages. Shostakovich began writing this piece when staying at Aldeburgh with Benjamin Britten in 1972, this time putting the Beethoven’s cellist, Sergei Shirinsky in the limelight. Watkins clearly loves this work, his characterful, rhythmic playing and faultless intonation wrapped in a blanket of rich, warm tone. His plaintive duet with Drucker in the Adagio was enhanced by rain-patter pizzicato from Dutton and Setzer, before all four players set up a lovely, singing ensemble in the Allegretto, moving like one instrument towards the unexpected, calmly euphonious close.
The Quartet no. 15 in E flat minor, completed in 1974 while in hospital in Moscow, is Shostakovich’s last and bleakest. Its six movements – each marked Adagio – run as one, in a succession of laments. The Emersons played the opening elegy bleached of all tone, a ruined landscape, spare and unyielding. The subverted serenade that followed offered no respite, instead suggesting ghostly memories shot through with longing. Setzer played the violin solo of the intermezzo with dazzling dexterity, mirrored by the other players in their hollow funeral march solos before the barren epilogue petered out, exhausted and defeated.
And that was it. No grand gestures, no big statements, just a display of supreme musicianship in homage to a great composer. The Emersons continue touring the world well into next year, but they won’t be returning to London. How ungrateful then that there were so many empty seats. It felt like a slap in the face to these magnificent performers.
