Edward Dusinberre, first violinist of the Takács Quartet, writes about playing Benjamin Britten’s last string quartet, a way to bridge distance during the COVID-19 pandemic. This excerpt is adapted from Dusinberre’s Distant Melodies: Music in Search of Home, published by Faber.
Tuning our instruments backstage, we miss the sounds of enthusiastic chatter before our concert in Grusin Music Hall on the University of Colorado’s Boulder campus. Our feet clatter over the wooden floor before we bow to the livestream camera. I imagine our friends listening over loudspeakers in their living rooms and my parents who will watch our performance the next day in Cambridge, in the same part of the world that Benjamin Britten’s String Quartet no. 3, Opus 94 was largely composed. The menthol drop I slip into my mouth underneath my mask adds an extra sting to the hot breath that fogs my glasses. When we start to play, the facial clues that we usually rely on to communicate changes of character are hidden. From the sparkle in violist Richard O’Neill’s eyes I can imagine his smile. Our cellist, András Féjer sometimes raises his eyebrows sceptically against the dubious rhythmic instincts of a first violinist – now they seem manically animated.
Continue reading Extract: Distant Melodies: Music in Search of Home by Edward Dusinberre