Who could believe that a boy, whose elderly Viennese neighbours recalled throwing snowballs at Beethoven, would live until the year of Michael Jackson's album Bad? The music of Hans Gál (1890-1987), enjoying something of a 21st century renaissance, was at the heart of this celebratory Edinburgh Quartet programme. The quartet is affiliated to Edinburgh University where Gál worked until 1960.
Two contrasting works explored Gál's penchant for wind-string combinations. The lyrical Maximiliano Martín featured in Gal's 1977 Clarinet Quintet Op.107, the opening notes falling to him alone before the quartet joined in. The reverse was the case in this sonata movement's second subject. The very term 'sonata movement' might sound out of place in a work composed the same year as Pierre Boulez's IRCAM opened and it has to be acknowledged that Gál's music is somewhat anachronistic - but no less lovely for it. The opening Allegro comodo called Brahms to mind, while moments of the central Lento - quasi allegro had the dark pathos of Strauss' Metamorphosen. The five-part arch structure of this movement guaranteed both symmetry and continual contrast. The closing Poco adagio - allegro molto called to mind that sense of wellbeing found in much English pastoral music. The playing was wonderful here and Martín's tone beautiful throughout. The ensemble shaped the music's harmonic adventures admirably. Although individual moments sounded tonally rational, I sensed great shifts across the work as a whole, often propelled by fine contrapuntal writing.
Much lighter, and more French in style and sensibility, was Gáls 1961 Concertino for Flute and String Quartet Op.82. This was, in fact, the first performance of the work with flute as the lead instrument, a contingency present from the outset when Gál wrote the 'lead part' for Carl Dolmetch's recorder.
From the opening of the nostalgic Preludio it was clear that flautist Juliette Bausor's tone and playing were extraordinary. The reach to higher registers seemed effortless, the sound never in the least strained. The harmony in this first of four movements was very interesting; many chords were extended beyond simple triad structure, but the sense of movement seemed less than in the previous work.
The Scherezo lirico, which had the urbane wit of, say, Poulenc, featured Mark Bailey's cello in imitation of an arpeggio-providing guitar. The following Notturno seemed yet more urbane - almost ironic - and could easily have served as the theme of a cognoscenti's 60s arts documentary. The closing Rondo capricciosa revisited the arch form idea, extending the fast/slow contrast to seven sections. Bausor's playing was admirably elegant here. Phrasing and balance across the strings was very impressive, especially in the fierce fugato section near the movement's conclusion.