In January, my newspaper sent me to review a concert by the esteemed Takács string quartet (pictured, below right) in the South Bank Centre, in London. In my review, I wrote about my concern that on this occasion the Queen Elizabeth Hall had been barely half full. Was it the presence in the programme, sandwiched between Haydn and Schumann, of a substantial modern work, Wolfgang Rihm's 11th string quartet? Or was it perhaps a sign of tougher times for the performing arts as the recession begins to bite?
A few days later, I got an email from one of Britain's foremost chamber musicians. The Takács may have got a small audience, he wrote (with barely suppressed indignation) but at least they got a review—perhaps because they are foreign visitors, which makes their gigs something of an occasion. In his own British-based ensemble, by contrast, they had done several big dates in London in the past two seasons, yet never once got a review in a national newspaper. Maybe, he suggested, this was a vicious circle. If the critics treat chamber music as the Cinderella of classical music—hard-working but invisible—it's hardly surprising that the public don't buy tickets for it.
This exchange, which led to a long conversation between myself and the musician, raised many serious issues. At its heart, though, is a large inequity that is little debated. Chamber music is one of the four pillars of the classical repertoire, along with orchestral, solo instrumental and vocal music. It remains, in various forms, one of the most fruitful areas of musical experimentation. As a forum for musical collaboration it is without peer. And yet—how often do the classical music magazines put quartets or trios on their covers by comparison with conductors, solo players or singers? When did you last see a concert advertising schedule that promoted chamber music in the same way it promotes the stars of the other genres? And when did you last attend a string quartet in one of our large metropolitan concert halls?
Part of the explanation is historical. In the 19th century, orchestral concerts became part of the civic culture of bourgeois society. So did opera houses. Conductors like Hans Richter and Gustav Mahler were civic luminaries in cities from Berlin to Chicago. Virtuoso soloists from Liszt and Paganini onwards were the rock stars of their era. Chamber music, however, never made this status leap. It remained the music of the academy and of the home rather than the concert hall.
We have inherited that hierarchy. In my own case, I have certainly heard the Kronos Quartet in the Barbican Hall, but never the Takács, the Emersons, the Hagens, the Alban Bergs, the Lindsays or even, I think, the Amadeus. I'm not saying there aren't occasional exceptions, but they prove the larger rule that chamber musicians expect and are expected to perform in smaller venues—like the Wigmore Hall—and amid rather less publicity than, say, soloists or singers. In any case, the Kronos are a specifically contemporary group who rarely play the traditional quartet repertoire and who attract a young and committed audience. This in no way invalidates their lessons for this debate; on the contrary, their success and status highlights the difficulties faced by more traditional quartets.
Convention is not the only explanation for chamber music getting a rough deal. In terms of marketing, everybody loves a star—which means putting a conductor, a singer or a soloist out front. Most chamber music groups, though, hide behind collective descriptions. We tend to call them by names such as the "Florestan Trio" and not, as it would be if the Florestan's pianist was marketed as an individual, the Susan Tomes Trio. Leadership is of course antithetical to this essentially collaborative form. But it makes chamber ensembles hard to sell.
Nevertheless, my musician complainant made a valid point about critical coverage. No opera is ever unreviewed. Few solo recitals by major instrumentalists are neglected either. The chief imbalance is between chamber and orchestral concerts. It is simply unfair that newspapers frequently review orchestral concerts that may have been put together on the basis of a single run-through and little detailed rehearsal, whereas even exhaustively prepared chamber recitals are rarely reviewed.
Having said all of this, it is good to see that the South Bank, at least, seems to be making more of its forthcoming chamber season than it has done in the past. Starting in the autumn, and amid a relative blaze of publicity, the Takács will be giving a six concert cycle of all Beethoven's 16 quartets. I bet they get full halls for that. And lots of reviews too.