It has long been clear that Robert Craft likes his Schoenberg fervently abrasive. Even when—as here—recordings are supervised rather than conducted by him, this quality is consistently to the fore. When Schoenberg returned to the string quartet in 1927, after a gap of almost two decades, he combined the new 12-tone method with classical forms. The contrapuntal complexity of the result is enhanced by Naxos’s close recording but the energy and eloquence of Fred Sherry and his colleagues ensure that the effect is never merely strenuous, never turgid. Though often aggressive, the music dances and sings, with that far-reaching, modernist rethinking of traditional musical values that Schoenberg made his own.

Nine years later, with Schoenberg in America, the Fourth Quartet is in some ways even more respectful of tradition, searching out ever more imaginative ways of building on the past. Rhythms can stagnate and textures congeal unless performers pay careful attention to the composer’s detailed markings concerning accent and balance. Such attention is conspicuous here and the rewards are manifold, even when, as in the Third Quartet, more space around the players might have enhanced the already potent musical atmosphere still further.

The recording of Schoenberg’s last instrumental work, the Phantasy for violin with piano accompaniment, follows the letter of the title by forward placing of the fiercely articulate Rolfe Schulte. The accompanying piano punctuates the violin’s discourse, enhancing the dramatic context of a signally free and concentrated score. Tough but life-affirming, this performance sums up the spirit of the whole disc in admirably uncompromising fashion.

The String Quartet No. 3, Op. 30, composed in 1927, follows a classical architecture, and each of its movements corresponds to a recognisable classical form. In some ways its mood is reminiscent of Schoenberg’s expressionistic works from earlier in the century—a late-classical quartet warped and bent out of shape. The String Quartet No. 4, Op. 37 again uses classical forms but is less spiky than the third. Both quartets have much to offer the dedicated listener, though (I hazard to say) less for the casual listener than, say, Bartók’s quartets, which are less severe and more occassionaly playful.

It is interesting that in speaking of the inspiration behind one of his works, Schoenberg gave the following account: ‘Unnameable mental image of sound and moving space, of a form with characteristic relationships; of moving masses whose shape is unnameable and not amenable to comparison.’ This is an account we might do well to pay attention to, especially the last point—whose shape is unnameable and not amenable to comparison.

A consistent drag on the reception of Schoenberg’s music has been its falling victim to a mode of academic musical analysis favouring quantification, calculation and over-identification of elements over a more sensible, holistic or thoughtful approach. We have musicological journals full of articles reducing Schoenberg’s music to pseudo-geometric diagrams and lists of pitch class sets littered like wheals on a musical corpse, of no interest to anyone except those inclined to write them in the first place, and certainly saying little of interest about the music.

Following the advice of the ‘master’ the music may be heard with more openness. In some sense these quartets come across like music that, though at the moment trapped hopelessly in our time, a time of comparisons and graphs, may in the future hope to be freed from the web in which it’s ensnared.

This release includes as a bonus a rendering of Schoenberg’s “Phantasy for Violin with Piano Accompaniment,” very ably performed by Rolf Schulte and Christopher Oldfather on violin and piano, respectively.

This is volume 12 of Robert Craft’s Schoenberg series. It is highly recommended.

Interpreting these works is a bit of a balancing act. Schoenberg’s radicalism seems to be in eternal conflict with his veneration of tradition. So, for example, the music is serial throughout, but the forms of the movements hark back to the 18th century. Performers must reconcile the Classical, the Romantic and the Modern, and without the result sounding laboured or overly cerebral.

These performances find the ideal balance while maintaining an impressive sense of immediacy. Engagement comes in the form of dramatic tension rather than emotive excess, suggesting Expressionist rather than Romantic readings. The tempos are often just on the fast side of comfortable, creating valuable momentum, and without obscuring any of the detail.

The two works were written in 1927 and 1936 respectively, meaning that one was written in Europe and the other in America. Given the momentous shifts and changes throughout Schoenberg’s life and career, both biographical and artistic, the stylistic continuity between these works is remarkable. If anything, the Fourth seems the most accomplished, and less encumbered by its traditional forms. The ‘Phantasy for Violin with Piano Accompaniment’ that concludes the programme is less exciting, a work that is as pedantic and unambitious as its title suggests. It is well played though, with plenty of life and sparkle, by Rolf Schulte and Christopher Oldfather.

The recorded sound is reasonable but in no way exceptional. The quiet passages (and yes, there are some) seem a little distant while the tuttis are clear but uninvolving.

The recording is a worthy addition to the Schoenberg discography. It is yet another demonstration of the extent to which American instrumentalists dominate the performance of Schoenberg’s chamber music these days. There certainly seems to be a healthy tradition of Schoenberg performance in his adopted country, of which this is just the latest example.