Aurora String Quartet (Sharon Grebanier, Mariko Smiley, Violins; Don Ehrlich, Viola; Margaret Tait, Cello) / Michael Grebanier, Cello* / Janet Guggenheim, Piano* (NAXOS 8.553136)

The Prokofiev First String Quartet (1931), commissioned by the Library of Congress, is one of the composer's more fascinating works. Its form is at once striking: two fast movements (though the second features a slow introduction) followed by an enigmatic, profound Andante, clearly the gravitational center of the work, and surely one of the composer's most interesting creations. I say "interesting" rather than "beautiful" because the movement has a curious arid quality about it, distancing itself from virtually all emotion, yet seducing the ear with its bizarre sound-world where the music, dark and restless, is somehow larger than its notes, seeming at times to yearn for a different expressive form. Prokofiev did transcribe this movement for string orchestra, fashioning a version which serves the music well, but no better than in the original.

String Quartet No. 2 could hardly be more different. Based on Kabardinian folk tunes (a rare instance of Prokofiev using material not born of his fertile imagination), this chipper piece is well-crafted, though not on the high level of invention of the previous work. It is, to invoke the age-old wisdom about Beethoven's symphonies, a case of the even-numbered composition not being as bold as its predecessor while still offering its own considerable rewards. It's quite a lyrical work with so many infectious tunes and clever rhythmic effects, you're apt to become enamored of it before the first listening has even ended. There's a blissful nonchalance to the first movement's alternate theme, a flavorful exoticism in the main theme of the second, and rollicking good spirits in the finale. You'd never know the piece was written during the war, and at a time (1941) when Soviet victory was still very much in doubt. But then, Prokofiev wrote the sprightly Classical Symphony with war and revolution in his midst, and his mostly upbeat Seventh Symphony with death knocking at the door.

Prokofiev's Cello Sonata has become a staple in the repertoire. Its reputation in certain quarters as a mellow, somewhat spineless work is not deserved. Yes, it has a mostly cheery disposition, and, yes, it's tuneful. But are these the great 20th century musical sins? Some, without hesitation, would answer "yes." And these same individuals would damn Tchaikovsky, I suppose. But tuneful works are often deceptive works. And with the 1949 Cello Sonata we have such an instance. Beneath its sunny veneer there is more than a hint of tragedy, of cataclysmic finality. Cellist Nathaniel Rosen views the enigmatic ending as the musical depiction of the end of the world. It certainly represents the end of something extra-musical, and "ends"--let's face it--are usually not happy affairs. Somehow, though, Prokofiev makes this "end"--whatever it symbolizes--quite palatable in its grimness.

The artists in these works, the Aurora Quartet in the quartets and Michael Grebanier and Janet Guggenheim in the sonata, give performances quite palatable, too. The latter pair are especially keen to the music's subtle demands, finding, in judicious measure, sensuousness in the first movement, mischief and mirth in the second, and radiance and hints of catastrophe in the last. Grebanier's creamy tone and splendid technique are well-partnered by the sensitive pianism of Guggenheim. Not that they dwarf their disc-sharing companions, though. Indeed, the Aurora instrumentalists are alert to the profundities in the First Quartet and bring out all the verve and exoticism in the Second. The sound in this recording is a touch echo-prone in the quartets, but overall quite acceptable.

The Chilingirian Quartet (Chandos) may actually have a slight edge over the Aurorans in the quartets. They offer well-executed, taut performances, and in much better sound. But they occasionally sound a tad mechanical and push tempos a bit (the second movement of the second, for instance). And, alas, their disc offers only the quartets, a paltry 43:30 of music. Yo-Yo Ma and Emanuel Ax offer the sonata on a Sony disc in a well-played but somewhat bland interpretation, definitely not on the spirited level of the Grebanier-Guggenheim rendition.

In sum, this Naxos disc is a winner, especially considering its low price.

Written by Robert Cummings