Following on from the Fitzwilliam’s recording of Schubert’s Rosamunde and Death and the Maiden Quartets on Divine Art comes this new release of the Quartettsatz and the G major Quartet. Enterprisingly, they perform Brian Newbould’s completion of the second movement of the Quartettsatz, left as a mere fragment by Schubert: the mastery of it is revealed in the way that you cannot readily tell where Schubert ends and Newbould begins. Prior to this is an Allegro assai that is somewhat relaxed, with little of the spine-tingling drama of the Doric or the obsessive quality laid bare by the Elias.

Like the Doric, the Fitzwilliam couple this with Schubert’s final quartet, although their approach is quite different. Notwithstanding the care for detail to be found in this new account, be it in the unorthodox boldness of the composer’s textures or the fine-tuning of the articulation, there’s one vital failing – the tempos. I know this is a subjective issue (and, indeed, the Fitzwilliam’s longstanding viola player Alan George writes about this subject in his excellent notes) but, from the outset, there’s a ponderousness that makes this a long listen. This is a work, like the last piano sonata, that lives or dies by its underlying sense of pacing. From the outset of the Allegro molto moderato, for me at least, it’s just too spacious, and points such as the outbreak of triplets in the first violin (3'07") count for relatively little. Contrast the Fitzwilliam with the pent-up energy of Cuarteto Casals or, of course, the devastating beauty and drama revealed by the Busch Quartet.

The way a group presents the stark octave B that launches the slow movement tells us much about its approach, and the Fitzwilliam reveal a stabbing weariness that sets the scene for an overly drawn-out reading. The Doric take their time but there’s more of a palpable pulse, while the Casals are different again – taking the un poco mosso to heart and bringing a folkish wistfulness to the music. In the dramatic middle section (from 3'18") the Fitzwilliam drag their heels, a triumph of resignation over ire.

The Scherzo is pinpoint in its togetherness – and the quartet have clearly spent much time discussing the niceties of the accentuation. But, again, it’s just too measured, lacking the tension that the Busch have in spades, though theirs is not a tempo for the faint-hearted! Happily, the Trio works much better, with its rocking rhythms nicely observed, and the harmonic shifts suitably telling. The finale is – you’ve guessed it – too steady on its feet. If the Busch, with their driving nihilism, are too much to take, the Cuarteto Casals, slightly steadier but absolutely focused in this dance of death, offer a brilliant alternative.