Birtwistle, Maxwell Davies, London Sinfonietta 16 June 2011

Leigh Melrose (baritone), London Sinfonietta, Baldur Brönnimann (conductor), Queen Elizabeth Hall, London, 16.6.11 

Birtwistle: Virelai

Birtwistle: Secret Threatre

Maxwell Davies: Eight Songs for a Mad King

On first appearances, the Southbank's annual Meltdown Festival would seem to revel in the randomness of its programming. What other festival would include a concert of Birtwistle and Maxwell Davies for which the programme is filled almost exclusively with essays about Ray Davies? But there is logic here, and the London Sinfonietta's contribution to this year's event sits squarely at the centre of its theme. Davies oversees a the festival in the year of the 60^th anniversary of the Festival of Britain, so Britishness, eccentricity and innovation are the guiding principles of the programming. And what better contribution could the London Sinfonietta make than a concert featuring seminal works from two of this county's greatest and most eccentric composers?

Performances of Birtwistle's Secret Theatre are frustratingly rare, so it is just as well that the piece is just as good on record. What you miss from the CD are the movements around the stage. An empty platform is set up to the left of the ensemble, and as players join the main melodic line, they move over to it, forming a sort of variable concertante group. But the musical distinction between what happens on and off the platform is clear enough, so this isn't really necessary. The performance from the London Sinfonietta was passionate and dramatic....I say the London Sinfonietta, but the ensemble seems to have turned into a scratch band, with different players on the stage every time they perform. I think there were a total of three performers this evening that I had heard perform as part of the Sinfonietta before. The changes don't seem to be affecting the standards too much, although the ensemble of the woodwinds wasn't as tight as in the past, and the control of the brass sound in the climaxes could have been better.

The concert opened with a more recent Birtwistle score, Virelai. Nothing of any particular interest to report here I'm afraid. Some renaissance tunes are given the Birtwistle treatment, played out of synch with their accompaniments and subjected to some exotic orchestration. Technically, it all works, and composer is still able to give everything he writes that amazing sense of inner purpose that makes every compositional decision seem providential. But programming it with one of his greatest scores does this new work little justice.

The Eight Songs for a Mad King also have a tendency to overshadow, and they were certainly the main attraction this evening. The performance could perhaps be described as semi-staged, without props or costumes, and certainly without cages. But what really matters in a performance of this work is the soloist, and Leigh Melrose put in a formidable performance. He has a great voice, but his acting ability is what makes him ideal for the role. He is a tall man, with long gangly limbs. He was lit from above by a single spotlight, and that was about all the staging support he got, yet he was utterly convincing. The work calls for a soloist who is a singer, a speaker, an actor, a performer in the broadest sense, and Melrose ticks all the boxes. The vocal requirements are beyond the realms of possibility, so it seems churlish to list the few failings of his musical performance. For instance, the first octave of his falsetto is clear and penetrating, but the octave above that lacks power. Of course it does, it is hardly worth noting. The instrumentalists gave him excellent support, sometimes competing with him at the climaxes, but that is in the spirit of the piece too. I thought it was a shame that the London Sinfonietta gave away the twist in the violin part (which I'm not going to reveal here) implicitly in the programme note and explicitly on Twitter a few hours before the performance. Perhaps everyone in the audience had heard it before, but I doubt it.

Certainly, nobody in the audience will have seen the part of the mad king acted as well as this before. The evening was a fair one for the London Sinfonietta (whoever they are), a worthy contribution to Ray Davies' Meltdown Festival, and a triumph for Leigh Melrose.

LSO, Haitink, Pires: Mozart and Bruckner. Barbican 14 June 2011

Mozart, Bruckner: Maria JoãoPires (piano), London Symphony Orchestra, Bernard Haitink (conductor), Barbican Hall, London, 14.6.11

Mozart: Piano Concerto No.27 K595

Bruckner: Symphony No.4 'Romantic'

A last minute soloist substitution is rarely a good omen. This evening's LSO concert looked like a sure-fire hit, with Murray Perahia's Schumann Concerto in the first half and Haitink’s Bruckner Four in the second. But Maria João Pires performing Mozart's 27^th Concerto seemed like a potentially disappointing second best, and so it proved.

Perhaps the circumstances worked against this performance, or at least my enjoyment of it. As the four-square and indistinct opening phrases of the Mozart began, my mind was still filled with thoughts of those sublime modulations of the Schumann and the what Perahia might have made of all those delicious piano figurations.

Even so, the performance of the Mozart that followed was uninspired by any standards. Pires gave us all the notes, but without life or passion. The orchestra followed suit, and perhaps Haitink is to blame for keeping the woodwind soloists under too much control. Form and formality have their place in Mozart performance, but in this one that is all we got. The absolute precision of the playing is worthy of mention, Pires' passage work in particular, and the tight ensemble of the strings. Technically speaking, it was a perfect performance – but in the worst possible sense.

The second half was a different story. Haitink is well known for his Bruckner, and this performance of the Fourth Symphony was up there with his best work. There is a fine line in this music between individuality and affectation. In my opinion, that is a line Rattle crossed when he conducted the Ninth with the LSO earlier this year, but Haitink has an uncanny ability to stay right on the edge without ever taking anything to undue excess.

He is known for his slow tempos, but the outer movements here were surprisingly fast. Again, not so fast as to take the reading to extremes, but brisker than average. The inner movements showed more of his trademark breadth, and the whole of the Andante and the Trio of the Scherzo were both characterised by slower tempos, filled out with opulent orchestral textures.

But whatever speeds Haitink chooses, his subtle and fluid sense of rubato always keeps the music alive. The opening of the finale offers a brief glimpse into the inner workings of Haitink's Bruckner. The cellos and basses play detached crotchets for about 40 bars, making the subtle increase in tempo and volume explicit. But even here the effect is so gradual that you have to listen hard for it. Less subtle, but just as effective, are the points at which a thundering climax comes to an abrupt halt. Then Haitink holds the pregnant pause for just exactly the right duration, and then a wind or horn soloist, or sometimes pizzicato strings enter, their new tempo pre-formed in Haitink's mind and providing the ideal refreshment for the musical palette, genius!

The orchestral playing was again superb, but in this half inspired as well. The control of the brass sound in the climaxes was particularly impressive. More impressive, in fact, than the brass in the Chicago Symphony performance of the Seventh Symphony that Haitink conducted at the Festival Hall a few years ago. All the woodwind solos were vibrant and free, even when they were also articulaing one of Haitink's gradual tempo changes. The ensemble of the strings was again of the highest possible order, as was the beauty of the string tone. In short, the Bruckner received a perfect performance – in the best possible sense.

Gavin Dixon

The concert will be repeated on Thursday 16 June, when it will be broadcast live on BBC Radio 3.

L'amico Fritz Opera Holland Park

Fritz Eric Margiore
Suzel Anna Leese
David David Stephenson
Beppe Patricia Orr
Caterina Susan Young
Hanezo Simon Wilding
Frederico Robert Burt

Conductor Stuart Stratford
Director Annilese Miskimmon
Designer Nicky Shaw
Lighting Designer Mark Jonathan

Holland Park's second new production of the season looks to be another success for them. L'amico Fritz, while it is obscure, is a classic verismo confection, just the sort of thing that this company does well. And the production excels in many ways: musically it is energetic and precise, the staging is inventive, and everything fits well into the summer festival ambiance – especially that famous Cherry Duet in the second act that seems perfectly timed for the first weeks of June.

But first a word about the opera itself: the libretto is dreadful. Really, really dreadful. It was Mascagni's first opera after Cavalleria rusticana, and apparently he was annoyed that the success of the earlier work had been attributed to its libretto. So, second time round, he wanted a libretto that would not overshadow his score. There is little chance of that happening with this feeble effort. The plot, if you can call it that, is that Fritz, a wealthy bachelor, has vowed never to marry and enters into a bet with a friendly Rabbi to this effect. But then he meets the girl of his dreams, Suzel, and so does marry after all. That's it, there's no back story, no character development, nothing.

The music is better, but not good enough to save the work from its libretto. Mascagni pulls out all the stops in terms of expressive and romantic music. As Robert Thicknesse notes in his programme essay, the composer knows how to keep the music modulating at just the right rate to maintain the interest. I would add that he knows what he is doing with the orchestration as well. He knows when he is going overboard, especially with the brass, but does it anyway when an act finale needs it. Some of the Mickey Mouse effects can get annoying. Somebody drinks and we get an ascending staccato chromatic scale. Somebody mentions a storm and we get legato chromatic scales, that sort of thing. But on the whole the music is competently written, and the composer really knows how to get the best from his singers.

Director Annilese Miskimmon and designer Nicky Shaw sensibly treat this paper-thin scenario as a tabula rasa to do with as they like. What they come up with is a 1950s business environment, with Fritz as a property tycoon and the outer acts taking place in his state-of-the-art offices. We are in Mad Men territory here, with many of the characters smoking continuously and a vague threat of violence hanging over some of the scenes: at one point in Act II it even turns out the rabbi is handy.

The whole premise works well enough. There is no tension between the libretto and the updated setting because the libretto is not up to the fight. The sets are elegant and find inventive things to do with the huge expanse of space on the Holland Park stage. The scene change at the start of Act II is impressive. Without giving too much away, they basically construct a house on the stage as we wait. (No music from Mascagni here, that's a mark against the score.)

The cast are all on the young side, but the standard was impressively high. Eric Magiore has a characterful voice that keeps his portrayal of the title character interesting throughout. He can also really act, which is especially impressive given how little dramatic material he is provided by the libretto. His crucial weakness is a lack of power in the loudest sections. He is required to crank up the volume for the finales to both the second and the third acts, but in both cases he disappears beneath the orchestra at the crucial moment.

If Anna Leese has a weakness, it is her acting, although again, the two dimensional role she is given can't be much help. But she more than makes up for this with her singing, which is very impressive indeed. To look at her, I'd guess she is in her mid-20s, yet her voice has an astonishing maturity. She brings a range of colours to the role, she has power when needed, and she can do that heavy but controlled vibrato that these verismo parts require. She has been all over the publicity for this production, and listening to her it is easy to understand why the company is so proud of her. Just one reservation about her singing, she too struggles with those finales at the ends of the acts, and has a tendency to go very sharp when pressed into loud, high phrase endings.

David Stephenson puts in a characterful performance as the rabbi. His baritone voice is a little on the light side, but there is a valuable intimacy about his sound. Again, the libretto gives the singer very little to go on in terms of fleshing out the character, but Stephenson's voice makes up for the lack. He might be better suited to the recital hall though, and I'd love to hear him sing some Schubert.

The singers in the supporting roles all supported well, and I've no real qualms about any of them. I had heard before the performance that Patricia Orr, in the trouser role of Beppe, was suffering from a sore throat, but she sounded fine to me. Perhaps when in better health she can add a little more projection, but it's not really necessary.

A great performance from the orchestra, better I thought than they played for Don Pasquale on Tuesday. There were no significant problems with balance, ensemble or tuning. A special mention should definitely go to conductor Stuart Stratford. One advantage of the unusually pit at Holland Park is that everybody in the audience can see the conductor work, and boy does this conductor work! He knows exactly what the orchestra and singers are doing at any given time, and makes sure they put everything into it. Holland Park is clearly a house, or rather a tent, that takes the innovation and professionalism of its staging seriously. But whatever you do with L'amico Fritz, the scenario and dramaturgy are always going to be fatally flawed. Just as well, then that they take the musical side of things just as seriously, and kudos to all the musicians, and especially to Stuart Stratford, for making this production a spectacular musical success.

Don Pasquale, Opera Holland Park 7.6.11

Don Pasquale Donald Maxwell
Dr Malatesta Richard Burkhard
Ernesto Colin Lee
Norina Majella Cullagh
A Notary Simon Wilding

Conductor Richard Bonynge
Director Stephen Barlow
Designer Colin Richmond
Lighting Designer Mark Jonathan

City of London Sinfonia

Donald Maxwell as Don Pasquale. 

Photo Fritz Curzon

This new production of Don Pasquale is described in the programme as the "first ever at Opera Holland Park". Why use the word "ever"? Is it that much of a surprise that the opera has never before been given here. Well, considering what an ideal work it is for this setting, the implied surprise might just be justified. It is classic buffa and the audience went wild for it. It's not too long, which is just as well considering we are all effectively sitting outside long past ten at night. And most importantly of all, it plays to the strengths of the impressive ensemble that the company has gathered.

Surely the biggest name, and probably the single most important factor in the musical success of this production, is veteran conductor Richard Bonynge. He lives for opera buffa and was really in his element this evening. The whole thing was light as a feather, and the sparkle and life that he infused into the performance, both vocal and orchestral, brought freshness to every phrase.

On the stage, director and fellow Australian Stephen Barlow, sets the action at a fish and chip kiosk on an unnamed, but thoroughly British, seafront. The conceit works well, with the kiosk standing in for the Don's "casa", and every other site-specific reference in the libretto cunningly relocated to the seafront setting (and with many of the updates incorporated into the irreverent surtitle translations). The long stretch of promenade and good chunk of beach give the stage designers something to do with all the space on the huge stage. That still leaves the director a few problems though, given the incongruity between the size of the stage and the cast of only five. His solution is to have little vignettes going on in other corners, runners, an old couple, some patrolling police, that sort of thing. In fact, many of these fit so well into the London park setting that when they come on to the stage they cause a brief moment of concern that they haven't just wondered in from the park. The premise works best in the first two acts, but is stretched in the third. Here, Norina's profligacy is demonstrated by a redesign of the kiosk as some sort of space-age ice cream bar. True enough, I think I once saw something like it on the seafront at Littlehampton, but that is not the point. They also need to relocate the denouement scene from the garden, as is explicitly stated in the libretto, to the beach. By the end, it doesn't quite feel as snug a fit as it did at the start, but it is worth it for the apt reinvention it brings to the first two acts.

Donald Maxwell is excellent in the title role. He plays the part for all it is worth, by turns lecherous, rude, and downright embarrassing for everyone else involved. His fist entrance is wonderful, careering about on a mobility scooter. What a great prop! I was hoping he was going to stay in it for the whole opera, although perhaps that might have taken the idea a bit far. His voice doesn't quite have the power it used to, but then he is playing a character in his 70s. The clarity of his diction is fine, and he is able to keep up with the patter.

The cast work well as an ensemble. Each of the singers has a voice suited to their role, and (with the possible exception of Maxwell) there are no real standout performances. Richard Burkhard is as sly as he is smooth as Dr Malatesta. Precision is the chief quality of his singing, and he he has a slight upper hand on Maxwell when it comes to the patter. Majella Cullagh is great fun as Norina. She has all the notes for the part, even the astronomical ones, but the quality of her sound isn't as pretty in the upper register as some sopranos and she doesn't quite have the rhythmic precision in the florid run passages. I was surprised to read that the name of the tenor singing Ernesto was Colin Lee, so impressive is his Italian I though it must be his native language. In fact, everything about him says Italian tenor, his tone, his languid phrasing, even his posture. He is one to watch, and surely an asset for any company working in the buffa repertoire.

The choir and orchestra where generally on good form. The start of the third act was slightly messy, musically speaking, with some ragged entries and suspect tuning, much of which was down to the choir. The City of London Sinfonia played with character and charm, their stylistic sensitivity to the music no doubt partly thanks to their conductor. The wide pit is a mixed blessing, it gives all the players elbow room, but can lead to coordination problems between the brass at one side and the woodwind at the other. (Incidentally, an excellent cornet solo in the second act, that's not the sort of thing you usually come to an opera for but it was a real musical highlight.)

The singing is amplified, but subtly so, and results in a good balance between stage and pit. [CORRECTION: No amplification, just good vocal projection, see comments.] Such are the practicalities of performing opera in what is essentially a huge tent. It is a sophisticated tent though, this is Kensington after all, and the seats are wonderfully comfortable. Just one word of advice if you are thinking of coming, and I'd recommend you do: bring a coat.

Gavin Dixon

LSO Uchida Davis Barbican 26 May 2011

Haydn, Beethoven, Nielsen: Mitsuko Uchida (piano), London Symphony Orchestra, Sir Colin Davis (conductor), Barbican Hall, London, 26.5.11

Haydn: Symphony No.99

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No.2

Nielsen: Symphony No.6

Colin Davis has been conducting Haydn symphonies since long before anybody was taking the idea the idea of period performance seriously. Those (paradoxically) new ideas about how to perform the music stand in opposition to a long and vibrant tradition, which retains all its vitality under Davis' baton. He doesn't intervene too much in the flow of the music, his role is more to energise and inspire. And even though the string section is relatively large, the results are impressively nimble. Ensemble and tuning were occasional problems, especially in the strings. When Davis spurs them on to loud dynamics that are out of their comfort zone, both the tone and the coordination can suffer.

When it comes to working with soloists, there are distinct advantages to working with the very best. The ensemble problems in the strings continued into the opening tutti of the Beethoven concerto, but when Mitsuko Uchida entered everything changed. From then on the orchestra was note perfect, and the perfection continued after her departure to elevate the Nielsen performance considerably above the Haydn. Do we have Uchida to thank? Who knows, but her performance was certainly inspiring. I hadn't heard her perform much Beethoven before, and I had wondered if she would have the necessary weight for his strident textures. But Uchida has a knack of setting the agenda on her own terms. As soon as she began, it became clear that I had been asking all the wrong questions. Instead, the issue became whether Beethoven has the required subtly and sophistication for an Uchida performance. He does, of course, and her performance was as convincing as any. She makes impressive musical capital out of questioning Beethoven's certainties. In the first movement in particular, many of the piano phrases seem to be written as dogmatic statements. But Uchida presents them more as suggestions, as if to say "Is this what the piano should be doing here?" And of course it is, but as a listener you feel that your views have been taken on board, or at least your presence has been acknowledged. Her performance wasn't note-perfect by any means, there were a good deal of wrong notes, and she got seriously lost a few bars into the first movement cadenza. But none of that detracted from this incredible performance.

Even by Nielsen's own standards, his Sixth Symphony is an eccentric work. There is nothing you can take for granted here, with the form, the orchestration and the harmony continually taking unpredictable turns into the unknown. There is enough great writing, especially in the first movement to compensate for its many wanton eccentricities. Most of those eccentricities come in the inner movements, and the second in particular gives the uneasy impression that it is all a big joke at the listener's expense. Full credit though to Colin Davis for tackling this and Nielsen's other symphonies so late in his career. They all require clear and focussed musical direction, and they certainly get it. This Sixth in particular is a work that presents huge challenges to everybody on the podium and particularly the conductor. The players had obviously done their homework too, because the orchestral playing here was ideal – precise, coordinated and focussed, and without any trace of pedantry, nor, I should add, of resentment at the bizarre challenges to which they were being put, often for only obscure musical gains.

No doubt a recording of this performance of the Sixth Symphony will find its way onto the LSO Live label, and given the quality of the playing it could well turn out to be as good as any on the market. The concert is being repeated on 2 June (with Uchida playing Beethoven's First Concerto). That concert will be broadcast live on Radio 3. Do tune in, but don't worry if you're not in time to catch the Haydn.

Gavin Dixon

RPO Beethoven Night Zukerman 11 May 2011

Beethoven: Pinchas Zukerman (violin and conductor), Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, RFH, London, 11.5.11

Beethoven: Egmont Overture

Beethoven: Violin Concerto

Beethoven: Symphony No.5

In all my years of concert going in London, this was the first time I had heard the RPO live. Bizarrely, I hadn't heard Beethoven 5 live either, although of course, I have enjoyed a long (and occasionally passionate) relationship with both the orchestra and the symphony on record.

RPO concerts, at least on the strength of this one experience, aren't like concerts by other London orchestras. The audience is older but more enthusiastic. Of course, with an all-Beethoven programme, what's not to like? They seemed to be equally passionate about Pinchas Zukerman, and both his conducting and his playing occasioned almost apoplectic applause.

So much for the audience, what was the performance like? To be honest, I didn't think much of it. Beethoven sits at the fault line of the standard repertoire; every earlier composer has been more or less appropriated by the period performance movement, while later composers are still firmly in the symphony orchestra repertoire. But both make equal claims to Beethoven. Mutual influence can make that advantageous for both parties, with the period instrument ensembles moving towards more dramatic performances and the symphony orchestras refining what they do with Beethoven's scores.

Not the RPO though, they are still performing Beethoven as if it where Mahler, with a huge string section, and everything played out in grand sweeping gestures. There are one or two advantages to this approach, Beethoven's orchestrations really benefit from the contributions of a double bass section of twelve players. But the playing of the whole orchestra lacked precision, and Beethoven's nimble rhythms were often bogged down just by the sheer weight of the ensemble.

The opening of Egmont was an indicator of what was ahead. The sinister chords of the opening passage were presented with all the corners rounded off. The rest of the overture was certainly weighty, but hardly incisive. The orchestra played with passion but lacked precision, not in their tuning, that was generally OK, but in their ensemble was approximate at best.

After the overture, the podium was quickly moved from the stage, and Zukerman returned with his violin to both play and conduct the Beethoven concerto. The concert was clearly all about Zukerman, his bio in the programme ran to three pages, about six times as much as most soloists or conductors usually get. While he is a relative newcomer to conducting, it is the violin he is best known for. Again, I wasn't particularly impressed with the results. Many concertos can be played fine with the soloist directing the ensemble, and I'm sure there is precedent with this one, but much is lost in the process. The orchestra really needs somebody to shape the phrases, especially in the slow movement, and without one they are reduced to mere backing. Zukerman performs the piece with a gritty, strident tone, which certainly competes with the volume of the orchestra but isn't very pretty. He delivers the phrases in an assertive and deliberate manner, his brow furrowed in concentration and his gaze fixed on the floor. True enough, Beethoven's concerto is one of the heavier in the violin's repertoire, but it needs some lightness and grace as well.

The finale fared better than the first two movements. Zukerman's muscular bowing worked to the benefit of the strong downbeats of the main theme, allowing him to clearly articulate its shape. And the orchestra responded well to his playing here, balancing the weight of these refrains with some real delicacy (at last!) in the quieter interludes.

Zukerman conducted Beethoven's Fifth from a score, which surprised me, especially as he seemed to know it well enough not to need the text. The performance was a mixed bag. To his credit, he didn't exaggerate any of the gestures in the outside movements, keeping the tempos steady and giving just enough dynamic contrast to articulate their structure. But both the opening movement and the finale suffered from some fatal longueurs, with the energy dropping to such and extent in the quieter passages that it often proved almost impossible to revive.

The inner movements worked better. There was an endearing gentleness about the second movement, with both the conductor and orchestra apparently content to allow the variations to gradually play out, one after the other. The third movement too was presented without undue histrionics. In fact, it went too far the other way, and could have done with more drama and punch.

But despite my own reservations, the audience again went wild at the end of the symphony. There are different Beethovens for different audiences I suppose, and Pinchas Zukerman delivers the kind of Beethoven that these listeners respond to. Even so, a little more precision, clarity and interpretive focus would go a long way, and I suspect make this a more satisfying experience for everybody involved.

Gavin Dixon

Not All String Quartets Are The Same: An Interview With The Ligeti Quartet

The Ligeti Quartet are very rare breed, a young quartet who specialise in contemporary music. Gavin Dixon meets up with them to hear about getting to grips with the toughest music in the repertoire, performing at some unusual venues, and what to pick from the menu when you're eating Japanese.

Photo: Gianluca de Girolamo

When young professional musicians are difficult to track down, that's usually a good sign. The players of the Ligeti Quartet seem to be as busy as any, and it took a good few weeks before we found a time that we could all meet up for an interview. In the end, we decided on late-night meal at a Japanese restaurant after what sounded like a strenuous three-hour rehearsal.

They had been working on a new piece with the Columbian composer Camilo Andrés Méndez San Juan. It sounded like he had been working them hard, but by the end minds were starting to wander.

Richard Jones, the group's viola player tells me "Val [Welbanks the cellist] decided what she was going to have over the course of our rehearsal just now, she kept leaning across and saying "I'm definitely going to have soup". Then ten minutes later it was ginger chicken. Is it still ginger chicken?" And indeed it is. That sounds like a good recommendation so I order the same, udon noodles with ginger chicken. Delicious!

After some detailed discussion of the menu, the conversation turns to music. They are an unusual group; it is rare enough to find a string quartet that specialises in new music, but a young quartet who have their sights set on the most difficult of modern repertoire is all but unheard of. I ask how the group got together, and it turns out to be more complicated than expected. There were a few random meetings and shared gigs here and there, where the players got to know each other. The world of contemporary chamber music is, it seems, a small one, so like minded players are inevitably going to meet.

"Something that brought us together" Richard tells me "was the First String Quartet by Gabriel Prokofiev. He asked us to play it in Oxford. That was the first time we had worked solidly together towards something. That was about a year ago."

Gabriel Prokofiev (Sergei's grandson) is himself a bright young thing on the contemporary classical music circuit, and his music draws on all sorts of influences. His "NONCLASSICAL" club nights are the antithesis of the traditional chamber recital format. Playing in new and interesting settings is an integral part of what the Ligeti Quartet is all about, but his composition is at the more accessible end of the contemporary music spectrum. I ask if the style of his music has dictated the later course of the quartet's activities, and I'm certainly expecting the answer to be "No", given the name they have chosen for themselves.

"We don't want to be pigeon-holed" says Mandhira de Saram, who plays first violin. Val agrees "We don't want to be limited to playing one kind of music." But there is one kind of music that is definitely at the centre of what the do, the modernist repertoire that poses the most difficult technical challenges a chamber performer can face. And those challenges are clearly what get these players going.

"When we do something like the Gubaidulina Third quartet, we feel a real sense of achievement when we play that to an audience and they get something out of it." True enough, Gubaidulina's Third Quartet is a pretty full-on modernist work, but it's not the toughest piece they played, and it becomes clear listening to the discussion of the new piece they have been practising this evening that it is harder still.

However, all four players are keen to stress that their concerts are more than just a contest with the notes, and prospective audience members should be reassured to hear that difficult modernist works only make up one part of their stylistically diverse programmes.

Patrick Dawkins, the second violin player tells me "We want to involve audiences as much as possible and be accessible in everything we do. We don't want to play, for example, a concert of incredibly complex music just for the sake of it." So their repertoire stretches from the gritty modernists, via one or two more established 20^th century names like Kodaly and Ravel, all the way to the minimalism of Reich and Glass.

That brings me round to the group's promising name. How, I ask, did they come to be known as the Ligeti Quartet?

None of the players is quite sure which of them came up with the idea, but the reason for it is clear. Richard says "We were unanimously enthusiastic about learning the Ligeti Quartets, so it seemed like a good name." They have already performed his early Andante and Allegretto (classic Ligeti, I'm told, as conservative as Communist Hungary required, but with premonitions of the distinctive style of his later years), and the First String Quartet is scheduled for the end of June.

So what about the Second Quartet? If ever there was a piece with a fearsome reputation it is this. The première of the work in the early 60s had to be repeatedly postponed because it took the players over a year to learn all the passages with artificial harmonics. This, I suspect, is the reason it hasn't yet made an appearance on this group's programmes. But no, I'm quite wrong, and questions about the Second Quartet don't phase them at all. They are learning the Ligeti quartets in chronological order, and will turn their attentions to the Second towards the end of the year.

That's not to say that they need the help of any composer to do what they do. Improvisation is becoming an increasingly important part of the Ligeti Quartet's activities. At one recent event, at the October Gallery near Russell Square, players from the quartet performed a series of free improvisations inspired by the paintings of Kenji Yoshida. Improvising in this sort of context is, I suggest, a very different activity from performing the works of contemporary composers.

"Not necessarily" says Val "it is about confidence and knowing that, even though one of us might start doing something different, the others can take up the new idea and then go with it."

"Improvising is not that different from normal quartet playing" according to Richard "When you are playing from music, there is a huge amount you do with it that is spontaneous, or that should be. You can't plan a lot of the things that end up happening, so I don't think it is a huge step to go towards improvising."

It turns out that improvisations based on paintings are just one of the ways in which the quartet work with other art forms. They have a concert coming up in September where the ceramicist Marisol Jacquemot will be presenting work inspired by their programme. Collaborations with singers and dancers are also planned, including the première of a new chamber opera at this year's Brighton Festival.

The relationship between visual arts and music brings us round to the question of performance venues. It is clear from the quartet's programme of upcoming events that they do not limit their activities to concert hall and traditional chamber concert settings.

Patrick tells me "The venue is really important, because that is something that can put people off contemporary music. You hear a lot of discussion about why contemporary art is so popular at the moment compared to contemporary music, and I'm sure it is to do with the setting. The concert hall can be an intimidating environment for many people."

Val takes up the theme "Contemporary music is like contemporary art in that how the audience takes it in depends a lot on the setting. You can have a fantastic piece of contemporary art outside and it will be really effective, but you put it in the sterile environment of a museum and it loses its effect. And the traditional concert setting can be much the same."

Audiences seeking a relaxed and friendly atmosphere to hear some new music are likely to find exactly that at the Red Hedgehog in Highgate where the quartet are about to take up a residency. The venue takes its name from Brahms' favourite coffee house, and the idea is to recreate the conviviality and artistic milieu of 19^th century Vienna.

"It's a great little chamber music venue" Mandhira enthuses "very intimate. Works like Gubaidulina's Third Quartet and Camilo's piece are really intimate pieces, and it is nice to be able to play really pianissimo."

"And when everyone is so close" continues Richard "they can see the action and the interaction. With much contemporary music, like the Gubaidulina, it is all about the interaction between the players, so it is great when the audience can see that going on."

Clearly, the Reg Hedgehog is the ideal venue to hear the Ligeti Quaret. Their next concerts at the venue are scheduled for 15 May, 17 July and 25 September. Each event takes place on a Sunday afternoon, and lasts around an hour. To find out about these, and about the quartet's many other upcoming appearances, check out their website: http://www.ligetiquartet.com