Sergey Taneyev (1856–1915) provides a link between two prominent generations of Russian composers: he studied with Chaikovsky and taught Scriabin and Rachmaninov. Although he wrote more string quartets than the three combined, Taneyev is probably best known in the West as a theorist, not a composer. His 1909 treatise on sixteenth-century counterpoint, translated into impenetrable pidgin English as Convertible Counterpoint in the Strict Style, has cemented his undeserved reputation as an academic, pedantic composer. David Brown's New Grove entry is representative: ‘Taneyev had little imaginative endowment but commanded a compositional skill unsurpassed by any Russian composer of his period’. In other words, Taneyev was a craftsman, but not an artist. Yet devotees of Brahms c. 1890 – or of Babbitt c. 1980 – know that architectural acumen need not preclude emotional intensity or melodic ingenuity.

Most of Taneyev's output consists of chamber works, including a large body of compositions for strings. Oddly enough, Taneyev's works become more experimental not as one progresses chronologically forward, but rather as the size of the ensemble increases from three to five players. Thus his string trios, early and late, are the most banal, exhibiting cookie-cutter rondos, square four-bar phrases and little chromaticism, whereas his two string quintets contain striking sonata-form departures, fugal interpolations and octatonic themes. The string quartets lie in the middle, maintaining for the most part conventional forms but incorporating original chromatic and rhythmic devices.

Taneyev's six numbered string quartets were composed between 1890 and 1905, and three earlier quartets, of 1880–83, were published posthumously in 1952, numbered seven through nine in spite of their early provenance. In the first three volumes of a promised complete cycle, the Carpe Diem String Quartet offers impassioned interpretations of the Quartets Nos. 1 through 5, as well as the early Quartet No. 7. The ensemble is anchored by core members Charles Wetherbee (first violin) and Korine Fujiwara (viola), working with a rotating cast of second violinists and cellists. (The group's website affirms that, since recording Volume 3, these two positions have been re-staffed.) Carpe Diem's performances should dispel any notion that Taneyev's appeal ends with his precompositional structural planning, as they argue strongly for the quartets’ inclusion in the standard repertoire.

Comparisons to Brahms are unavoidable, as Taneyev relies on many of the same devices as his Viennese contemporary. Like Brahms, Taneyev frequently ends his development sections with a build-up of rhythmic momentum that spills over into the recapitulation, embellishing the return of the main theme. (Think of the slow movement from Brahms's Fourth Symphony, where the main theme is restated with an arpeggiated semiquaver accompaniment absent in the exposition.) Taneyev also typically draws motives from the first phrase of a composition, so that any notable interval or chromatic pitch in the first few bars becomes a referential touchstone for the complete multi-movement cycle. This reveals a Brahmsian sense of integrated structure, attunement to which will reward sympathetic listeners.

Some prior reviewers (naxos.com supplies an archive) have contrived to hear a contrapuntal focus in Taneyev's chamber writing, no doubt influenced by knowledge of his theoretical preoccupations. Although there are moments of melodic imitation and occasional fugato in the quartets, there is little of the invertible counterpoint examined in his treatise. As a theorist, Taneyev studied dissonance treatment in the vocal polyphony of the Renaissance; as a composer, he wrote fugues that were thoroughly chromatic and belong to their own time.

Volume 1 pairs Quartets Nos. 1 and 3. The String Quartet No. 1 in B-flat minor (1890) introduces several of Taneyev's compositional hallmarks, including an abundance of sequences, lyrical syncopation (in the vein of Chaikovsky's First Quartet) and the aforementioned recapitulatory rhythmic spillover. The cello enters in bar 2 with an ultimately prophetic motion from G♭ to F, or scale degrees ♭6ˆ to 5ˆ. This same scale-degree motion appears in nearly every theme across the five-movement structure. In this quartet, the Carpe Diem performs most forcefully in thick textures, where the ensemble produces a rich, full sound. Violist Fujiwara's solos stand out in particular, as in the dark, plaintive codetta to the first movement (which embellishes another motion of G♭ to F) or the momentum-building cadenza of the fourth (Audio Example 1).Footnote ¹ The coda of the Finale rises to a loud climax only to end with a quiet, pizzicato cadence, an effect Taneyev repeats in the Fifth Quartet.

The String Quartet No. 3 in D minor (1886, rev. 1896) consists of just two movements, a sonata followed by an expansive theme and variations. The latter movement begins in D major but finishes tragically in minor. For my taste, the variation set is hampered by an uninspired theme: regular four-bar phrases, little chromaticism and a plodding, overused siciliano rhythm. The Carpe Diem nonetheless approaches the movement with finesse, adding touches of rubato and heightening the dynamic contrasts among variations; the assertive, energetic third variation stands out as a favourite.

On Volume 2, which presents Quartets Nos. 2 and 4, the Carpe Diem exercises a tighter group dynamic, resulting in a more robust sound, greater precision in fast passages and an overall feeling of spontaneity. The String Quartet No. 2 in C major (1894–95) includes the first fugue of the set, interpolated between the Finale's recapitulation and coda. Taneyev forges inter-movement connections with a single chromatically inflected pitch, an F♯ in the cello's undulating opening solo. The pitch reappears in the second movement, a macabre scherzo in C minor, forcing its way into the cello's frantically sawing accompaniment to a low-register viola melody, itself recalling the Dies irae (Audio Example 2). The Carpe Diem performers use a dark, muddy timbre effective for such a grotesque theme. In the third movement, a brisk adagio in F minor, the motivic pitch F♯ is recast as G♭ within the opening melody. A vigorous C major finale concludes the work.

The String Quartet No. 4 in A minor (1898–99) is a tour de force of motivic control and thematic recollection. The quartet opens with a four-note motto, A–E–F–C, that reappears in various guises throughout the work. The motto alternates ascending perfect fifths and semitones, and if one were to extend the pattern, as Taneyev does in the first movement's development, the motive would return to its starting point after six pitches: A–E–F–C–D♭–A♭–A. These six notes, which incidentally form a hexatonic collection, include the tonic of every important theme in all four movements. (For instance, the third-movement Adagio has themes in D flat, A flat, E and A major.) The Finale quotes the main themes of the first and third movements; its own main theme, which features the four-note motto, derives from the quartet's slow introduction, transformed into a whirling, frenetic dance (Audio Example 3). The Carpe Diem plays tightly and expressively throughout, bringing a tortured passion to the work's winding chromaticism.

Volume 3 programmes the early Quartet No. 7 alongside the mature Quartet No. 5 and contains the best performances of the set. The String Quartet No. 7 in E-flat Major (1880) is characterized by Taneyev's youthful indulgences: fervent diatonicism, an overreliance on transitional octaves and sequences and a startling predilection for false recapitulations, heard in all three sonata-form movements. The Carpe Diem approaches the music with seriousness, suffusing the diatonic textures with warmth and sweetness and executing the octaves and sequences dramatically, not perfunctorily. A terrifying third-movement scherzo in C minor, which the Carpe Diem plays with forceful conviction, is buttressed by a slow introduction and coda, the latter over a fatalistic descending phrygian ostinato.

More than 20 years separate the composition of the Seventh Quartet and the String Quartet No. 5 in A Major (1902–03), a pared-down four-movement work and the shortest of the set. The first movement uses an abbreviated development section and no main-theme recapitulation; the other movements forgo development sections altogether. In typical Taneyevan fashion, motivic connections interrelate disparate melodies: the first movement's main theme is recast rhythmically to become that of the fourth. The Carpe Diem presents a lively rendition, bouncing through the quartet's pervasive syncopation with unlaboured precision and thereby drawing out a searching quality to the music's boisterous melodies (Audio Example 4).

By offering sensitive, passionate performances of these works, the Carpe Diem String Quartet compels listeners to hear past Taneyev's purported didacticism and reconsider the emotional impact of his chamber music. I hope the Carpe Diem completes its cycle – Volume 3 was recorded in 2010 – not least to supplant the recordings made by the composer's namesake Taneyev Quartet in the 1970s, available on the Northern Flowers label. The Taneyev Quartet have a propensity to ignore indicated tempo fluctuations, and their Quartet No. 6 contains a conspicuous wrong cello note in the second movement; I look forward to the Carpe Diem's corrective. The group's first three volumes make a powerful case for Taneyev's rediscovery. I recommend these recordings highly.