Joseph Haydn (1732–1809)
String Quartets Op. 50, the “Prussian” Set
Festetics Quartet (István Kertész and Erica Petöfi, violins; Péter Ligeti, viola; Rezsö Petorini, cello)
Recorded August 1999, Technical Library, Budapest
Label: Arcana A 415 (Brilliant) [151.00]
Available on CD and digital download
One doesn’t often encounter a string quartet that opts for period instruments in Haydn’s Op. 50 cycle, and the Festetics Quartet’s decision to do so feels—refreshingly—like a breath of evening air in a stuffy drawing room.
These six quartets, sometimes overshadowed by the great Op. 76, nonetheless offer a microcosm of Haydn’s wit and mastery. The Festetics approach them with a sound palette that’s distinct: incisive, limpid, and with a transparency that reveals the architecture of each piece without veiling it in modern gloss.
The first thing that arrests the ear is the timbre. The gut strings and classical bows produce a sharply etched tone—more trenchant than lush—which means every phrase has a clarity that slices through the texture rather than blending away. The effect is of four individual voices in active conversation, not a homogenized mass.
The maestro’s presence feels palpable even in this studio setting.
In the opening "allegro" of Op. 50 No. 1 in B minor, for instance, the vitality crackles with a youthful exuberance that stops short of bravura showmanship.
One senses Haydn’s playful juvenile spirit in that "finale" vivace—there’s a mischievous bounce, light on its feet but never frivolous. Yet the ensemble doesn’t sacrifice depth for charm. The slow movements have a subtle introspection.
Take the "adagio" of Op. 50 No. 3 in E-flat major: the Festetics coax out a tender, almost fragile lyricism, where every subtle dynamic shift and slight rubato breathes natural life into the melodic lines.
The sound flows like waves—restless, translucent, and nuanced—never allowing the music to settle into monotony. The quartet’s handling of the fugal "finale" of Op. 50 No.
4 in F-sharp minor reveals their cerebral rigor. Here the texture grows dense, and the four voices stake out their contrapuntal territories with scholarly precision. It’s a discourse that recalls Bach without sounding academic or dry; rather, it’s a living, breathing musical argument, each instrument staking claims, challenging, responding—complex yet utterly coherent.
The textures are clear enough to hear each strand, but the sum enriches the whole, like a musical symposium. Still, the recording isn’t without its minor flaws. Occasionally, the ensemble’s measured approach to the "allegro"s leans toward reticence—some passages could benefit — from a touch more propulsion, a brighter attack to counterbalance the sweetness of the tone.
The opening movement of the sixth quartet, for example, while played with admirable élan, sometimes feels a shade too cautious; a faint sense of hesitancy creeps in where Haydn’s genial energy demands a bit more sparkle and forward thrust. But these are quibbles in a largely compelling realization. The production itself is distinguished—capturing the nuances of the period instruments with crystalline clarity and natural ambience.
The spatial positioning allows the listener to savor the interplay and subtle timbral differences without intrusion. If you are someone who seeks the familiar warmth of modern string quartets, this might feel a little lean on the ear. But for those willing to surrender to a sound world that feels authentic; to Haydn’s time—rougher edges, more bite, more transparency—this is a rare and rewarding set.
The Festetics Quartet doesn’t merely perform the Prussian quartets; they inhabit them, inviting us to overhear the intimate conversations of four masters at work. In sum: a fascinating, if occasionally reserved, reading that illuminates Haydn’s compositional genius with fresh eyes, or rather, fresh ears. For those curious about period sound, or anyone seeking to hear these quartets; rendered with a compelling blend of intellectual rigor and heartfelt nuance, the Festetics’ Op.
50 is indispensable. It reminds us why Haydn remains the quintessential father of the string quartet—ever inventive, ever surprising, and always, in the end, profoundly human.
