The Ironbound Consistency of the Guarneri
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

New York has played host to more important moments in the history of classical music than any other city in the Western hemisphere, but undoubtedly the most significant of all occurred in 1893, when Anton Seidl led the orchestra that would eventually become the Philharmonic in the premiere of the symphony “From the New World” by Antonin Dvorak. The story that the composer was exhorted to descend from his box at Carnegie Hall to conduct a reprise of the famous Largo is probably apocryphal, but there is little doubt the event radically changed the course of American music from worshipful imitation to exhilarating innovation. Dvorak led by example; forevermore composers on this side of the pond would sing out in their own native voice.
Other than Carnegie, the only local building that existed in those heady, creative days and that houses a major concert venue today is the Metropolitan Museum of Art, built in 1870 by a consortium of philanthropists headed by Theodore Roosevelt Sr. as a companion to their other museum directly across the park. The Met has a long and distinguished history of concert performance and this season is presenting a five-part series of the chamber music of Dvorak – this year marks the 100th anniversary of his death. The performers are a group that may itself be in danger of becoming a bit of a museum piece, the storied Guarneri Quartet.
Perhaps the most endearing quality of true audiophiles is their irascible in ability to agree on anything, but there does appear to be consensus when the topic of best Dvorak chamber-music recording comes to the fore. The two finalists for this prestigious award have to be the viola quintet pressing with the Budapest Quartet and William Primrose and the piano quintet vinyl of Artur Rubinstein and the Guarneri. But the latter was realized in 1972, and therein hangs the tale.
Unlike two other groups in town – the Beaux Arts Trio here at the museum and the Tokyo String Quartet at the 92nd Street Y – who annually host major chamber-music series, the Guarneri has not reinvented itself in the past few seasons. They have made only one personnel change, replacing cellist David Soyer – after 36 years of continuous service – with Peter Wiley. (Mr. Soyer continues to concertize with the ensemble on a regular basis.)
Dvorak wrote 14 string quartets, and this series features none of them, concerning itself instead with rarities and pieces that can accommodate guest artists. Saturday evening’s treat was the Terzetto in C for two violins and viola – thus presenting the original Guarneri members without that pesky cellist interloper. A sum total of 120 years of experience performing at the museum went into producing such a sweet blend of sound. The players, with the second violin in the first position, seemed far more energized than in some of their previous appearances over the past few seasons.
This performance had a remarkable freshness, considering the preparation. The Budapest Quartet used to worry about practicing too much and therefore sounding cybernetic. Their solution was the occasional palace coup and realignment of forces, bringing more volatile players like Sacha Schneider into the mix. The Guarneri formula, by contrast, is one of ironbound consistency. When it works, as it did this night, the results are glorious. Bassist Orin O’Brien joined them for the G Major Quintet of Dvorak as well.
Each program in this series has one non-Dvorak effort, and the Ravel String Quartet was nothing short of thrilling. This work depends almost exclusively on its exotic sound, and the four comrades nailed it. It is a murmur from the North African plain, a little French to be sure but more a combination of Spanish and Berber, akin to the Beni Mora Suite of Gustav Holst. Ravel infused just the right measure of Basque sensibility and nomadic rhythm, but many accomplished groups miss this. The Guarneri exploited it for all that it was worth, painting an entire landscape from earthen colors.
Other highlights included a strangely contemplative Allegro moderato in a relaxed tempo. The grueling pizzicato line was probably a bit easier to traverse at this slower speed, but I was more impressed with the (normally unheard) inner plucking voices. The slow movement was mysterious and dramatic, the frenetic finale – marked “vif et agite” – authoritative and brimming with confidence. Technically, this may not have been the most satisfying of performances, but interpretively it would be hard to challenge.
Mahler once said that tradition was “simply the memory of the last bad performance”. As frequent conductor of the Vienna Philharmonic, however, he knew how irreplaceable direct contact with the past was for deeply communicative musical thought. The voice of the Guarneri Quartet may be halting at times, but at its best it is still revelatory.