Whatever else they were meant to do in life, the members of the Fitzwilliam Quartet were not meant to play César Franck's String Quartet. The Fitzwilliam was fine for those who like their Shostakovich dry and their Delius cool. But the Fitzwilliam lets it all hang out in its Franck recording, and with self-restraint gone, the players let loose their inner Francophile -- and anything becomes possible. The vibrato is incredibly lush, the lines are excruciatingly intense, the intonation is unbelievably full, and the sonorities are immensely sensual. Unfortunately, this all sounds entirely inappropriate for the music. This is not to say that Franck's quartet isn't lush, intense, full, and sensual -- it certainly is -- but it is to say that the Fitzwilliam doesn't sound lush, intense, full, and sensual -- it sounds like an imitation one step up from a parody. The sound is more voluptuous than lush, more exasperated than intense, more overweight than full, and more intentionally sexual than implicitly sensual. It's all fairly embarrassing and ought to be avoided as an interpretive strategy and as a performance. However, the coupling of Franck's radiantly beautiful Violin Sonata performed here by Pierre Amoyal and Pascal Rogé is so light-filled, so soul-full, and so heartwarming that the disc will still be quite appealing to Franck aficionados, particularly in Decca's smoothly polished stereo sound. As half a disc, this release is well worth it -- but by all means skip the first four tracks.
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