A hushed chord sustained by the second violin, viola and cello. Fragments of a melody played as a distant memory by the first violin, which reached slowly upwards to a final crystalline harmonic. Pizzicato, diminuendo, silence. In this captivating performance by the Danish String Quartet, stillness settled over the closing portion of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No 3 in F Op 73 like heavy snow. Bow changes became impossibly seamless. The quartet’s silken tone appeared to exude eerily, disconnected from the basic friction of hair on string.
Such quiet control was all the more striking in the wake of jagged, impassioned solo interjections, deeply incised octave unisons and phrases pursued as if the musicians’ survival depended on it. There was articulation so spiky it was percussive – all contact, no resonance – and passages that sounded symphonic in their velveteen richness. Yet there were also moments of polite levity and luminous classicism. The atmospheric gearshifts were sometimes imperceptibly gradual, sometimes violent, but rarely visible: beyond describing itself as “relatively bearded”, the Danish String Quartet is not an ensemble given to choreographed spectacle.
