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Rating: If there is a god of musicians, during the period between the end of the 18th century and the first half of the 19th century "maybe he was tired, maybe too busy... " (any excuse is a good one to quote De André). Mozart lived 35 years, Schubert 31, Mendelssohn 38, Chopin 39, Schumann 46: the scythe operated almost regularly, so much that the 56 years reached by Beethoven seem quite an achievement, if you set aside the small detail that he spent almost half of them deaf. Cruelly cursed fates, as you can see, but none like that of Franz Schubert, not only for the absurd age at which he was cut down, but especially because it happened during a decisive phase of his artistic evolution, when the creator of perfect miniatures like the countless Lieder, Impromptus, and Musical Moments for piano, had begun to think big, with extraordinary results, so extraordinary that most of the European audience (and particularly the Viennese) at the time was not yet mature enough to fully appreciate them.
The last year of his life, 1828, was exceptionally dense with grand works in every field, all destined to be reevaluated only many years after his death. It suffices to mention the last three sonatas (D958-D960) of infinite melodic richness and proportions reminiscent of Beethoven, the Symphony No. 9 in C major D 944, aptly named "The Great", begun earlier but completed in this feverish year, and what can be considered its chamber music equivalent, the monumental String Quintet in C major D 956, an authentic symphony masquerading behind a chamber group. The ensemble is somewhat unusual, shifting the perfect balance of the classical string quartet (two violins, viola, and cello) distinctly toward the exaltation of the lower tones thanks to the addition of an extra cello, "second" only in name, but with a role that is far from secondary. At times we find it contrasting with the bright sound of the remaining quartet with a dark role, almost akin to a double bass, while at other times it dialogues with the other cello, creating countless shades of dark colors, and it is certainly no coincidence that in the beautiful version I propose here, this "second" cello is entrusted to His Majesty Mstislav Rostropovich, who is to this instrument what Miles Davis is to the trumpet in jazz, just to give an idea. Moreover, the Melos Quartett is no joke: the names don't mean much, but one would think of members of the Berliner Philharmoniker, so great is their ability to recreate on a small scale the decisive and flawless sound of the legendary German orchestra.
Already remarkable in its overall length (almost an hour), the Quintet even presents Mahlerian durations in the first two movements. The powerful "Allegro ma non troppo", which opens it, has a thematic richness and a truly symphonic complexity, with a prominent contrast between an exuberant and triumphant first theme, and a second one more singable and reflective, yet still agitated by real "shivers" from the two cellos. The subsequent complex developments of the two themes continue to alternate and, at the same time, intertwine with new musical ideas, including a sort of march that appears halfway through the movement, until you realize that 20 minutes have flown by, and we have no sense of heaviness. At this point, the incredible "Adagio" begins, the expressive culmination of the Quintet, one of the most moving and intense pieces of music ever conceived, even if the rarefied and obsessively long-held notes of the violins and violas, with the pizzicato of the cellos accompanying them, suggest rather a moment of surreal hypnosis, of stasis that seems never-ending. In reality, the tension grows underneath and explodes dramatically halfway through, with a hallucinatory shock that seems to traverse all the strings, with tremors comparable to a true crisis of tears and convulsions, which then gradually subsides with a return to the stasis of the first part, now forever disturbed by the central episode. The subsequent two movements, shorter and livelier, attempt to release the enormous tension that has built up. The abrupt entry of the "Scherzo. Presto" seems to succeed: it is the closest possible to a fanfare played with strings, an energetic breath that sweeps away a good part of the darkest clouds, but already the "Trio, Andante sostenuto" that acts as its necessary counterweight reintroduces traces of painful unease. The fourth and final movement "Allegretto" is indeed the only refuge of serenity in the entire work, with its lively gypsy dance beginning and its subsequent sweetly singable developments, but by now it's too late to fully dilute the poison of anguish, a sweet and intoxicating poison that takes hold of the soul of any listener, even those of not too elevated sensitivity.
An absolute masterpiece, but to be taken in small doses: it is the work of a man who seems to sense that in two months, at the cursed age of 31, he will have to leave music forever. At least the earthly kind.
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