Since their genesis in 1995, the Frankfurt String Sextet has strived to present obscure and under-performed music in the concert hall and on disc. Their latest offering - a recording of two chamber works by the German composer Hans Kössler (1853-1926) - does not deviate from this self-chosen enterprise. Though an account of this virtually unknown late romantic's life may be 'about as exciting to read as the railway timetable of a rural terminus' (one of several idiosyncratic remarks from Eckhardt van den Hoogen's garrulous booklet notes) it does reveal something about his musical pedigree: During his twenty-five years as teacher of organ and theory at the Budapest Academy, the likes of Dohnányi, Kodály and Bartók all passed through its doors.
Kössler's music resists swift categorisation, due in large part to a multi-faceted approach which is never overly reliant upon the inspiration of any single precursor. The Teutonic intensity of Brahms, the tonal ambiguity of Wagner, the harmonic navigation of Schubert, and the freshness and vitality of Dvorák all factor in at various points in the compositional process. Make no mistake, however: far from being a Victor-Borgesque potpourri - in which the music of canonical composers is decanted into one giant melting pot, only to produce what is ultimately an unexceptional and watered-down brew - Kössler casts his muses into a cohesive whole that symbolises his own unique voice as well as his indebtedness to predecessors.
The String Quintet in D minor (1913) adheres to this model in the first-movement Allegro appassionato, which resides somewhere between the hubbub of Vienna and the rolling countryside of Eastern Europe. Indeed, the oscillating semiquavers at the very beginning recall the start of Dvorák's 'American' String Quartet, Op. 96 (1893) before a more Brahmsian theme takes over. The second subject is particularly delightful, and the Frankfurt String Sextet responds with a lilting performance full of charm and inflection.
The ensuing Adagio is powerfully solemn, from the violin's soaring opening melody to the hushed, tranquil harmonics that signify the movement's end. Contrast between menace and mischief characterises the playful Scherzo, which is most notable for its reference to Ride of the Valkyries and a wonderfully adroit transition from the trio section back to the Vivace. The spirited Finale receives an impassioned account, full of alluring rubato, which brings its dexterous counterpoint to the fore.
The members of the Frankfurt String Sextet prove to be ideal advocates for Kössler's chamber music. Their palpably enthusiastic dedication to these works comes across in both recordings, as does their technical respect for the composer's writing. There is a myriad of potential stumbling blocks surrounding phrasing and intonation, the majority of which are handled seamlessly.
The Sextet in F minor (1902) is stylistically similar to the quintet. Its first movement is perhaps the more fluent of the two, with a passionate Adagio, non troppo introduction that gives way to a rousing Allegro in which the Mendelssohnian music dialect is audible. The subsequent Scherzo possesses 'dance of death' qualities in its outer sections, separated by tender central episode with distinctly Dvorákian harmonies. The performers' dynamics can be a bit relentless at times, though this fails to detract from the trio section's reprisal in the coda. The slow movement, with its viscous texture and constantly overflowing phrases, receives a truly heartfelt rendition.
The Finale is memorable for the jolting chromaticism of its main theme. The ensemble is excellent throughout, as the musicians brilliantly capture the essence of the composer's verbose performance markings (with instructions such as übermüthig (in high spirits), spöttelnd (mockingly) and tändelnd (flirtingly)). The balance during the hymn-like third subject is sometimes middle-heavy - a minor inconvenience. The recall of first movement material is deftly executed.
So why, if they genuinely have something of worth to offer, have these works spent most of their existence hidden in and amongst the shadows? Kössler's timing was not to his advantage, as music in the early twentieth century was beginning to take a different direction. Furthermore, his apparently apathetic and haphazard approach towards his scores and their promotion was of no help. One wonders how the story might have differed had these works been composed and actively marketed thirty years earlier.
Given the state of the record industry at large - and that of classical music in particular - it amazes me that labels are still willing to take a chance on the obscure and unknown. Yet, beyond the 'product and profit' realism of the business, this disc will hopefully achieve something of greater significance. That is, to pique the curiosity of the listener, causing him or her to speculate about the unwillingly concealed pleasures of other music by Kössler. I, for one, am one such listener.