A quiet strain of melancholy passes through all three of Gavin Bryars’ string quartets‚ though the Third and latest – which was commissioned by‚ and is dedicated to‚ the Lyric Quartet – has a bardic feel to it that is quite unlike the others. Part of the reason lies in the use of pure intervals which in turn reflects a passing preoccupation with the world of early music. And yet there are definite parallels with the earlier pieces‚ especially with the Second Quartet. The strange subtitle of the First‚ Between the National and the Bristol‚ hints at two Viennese hotels (the Bristol was the location for this month’s cover interview with Nicolaj Znaider – see page 24!) where famous dancers were staying at the turn of the last century. Bryars was researching one of them‚ Mata Hari‚ at the time of composition‚ though the reference has precious little musical significance. Of more relevance is Bryars’ effective mimicry of his own instrument the double bass (cello and viola playing in octaves from 5'51")‚ his conscious attention to middle voices‚ the viola especially‚ and a use of scordatura (unorthodox tuning) that creates the effect of an augmented quartet. Try from 10'14" where the violins rise and fall in approximate unison against a varied but insistent accompaniment‚ one of the most haunting passages in the modern quartet repertoire. Bryars’ original plan for the First Quartet had been to create a sort of compositional séance where memories of such past masters as YsaØe‚ Hindemith and Schoenberg would be conjured musically. In the event it is the Second Quartet that is more suggestive of musical side references: to John Adams of Shaker Loops at 6'32" and the Schoenberg of Verklärte Nacht at 14'38"‚ though I’d imagine these are coincidental similarities. All that needs to be said about the music Bryars says himself in the booklet­note‚ much as he had already done some seven years ago for the Balanescu Quartet’s Argo CD of the first two quartets (which was all there was at the time). There the coupling is Die letzten Tage for two violins but I suspect the new disc will hold the greater appeal for those building their quartet repertoire on CD. Comparing the two versions finds the colour­conscious Balanescu employing a subtler range of nuance while the Lyric press for greater emphases and rather more in the way of inner voice detail. Either disc will probably find you returning to this haunting‚ though by no means immobile‚ music again and again. I can remember some years ago Bryars telling me that he liked to take a recording of Parsifal with him on long plane flights‚ and there is something of the Wagnerian wooded enclave in this music: it envelops you much as any atmospheric environment might.