ALL OVER THE MAP.(Kronos concert)(Concert review)

The Kronos Quartet, which is in the middle of a six-concert series at Carnegie Hall, has enacted two revolutions in its more than three-decade life, one of style and one of substance. Back in the nineteen-eighties, the members of Kronos--the violinists David Harrington and John Sherba, the violist Hank Dutt, and the cellist Joan Jeanrenaud, whose place is now occupied by Jeffrey Zeigler--startled audiences by coming onstage in modish fashions, in a look that suggested a genteel art-rock band. They also lowered the lights, projected images behind them, and generally attempted to bring a little atmosphere to whichever hall they had booked for the night. Self-appointed guardians of the classical grail (I was one at the time) dismissed them as purveyors of kitsch. But Kronos wasn't putting on a show; they were choosing to be their funky San Francisco selves, rather than checking their personalities at the door. Now others have come around to their way of thinking. Vibrant younger quartets like the St. Lawrence, the Pacifica, the Flux, and Ethel make music in whatever style they see fit, dispelling the aura of aristocratic make-believe that surrounds classical music. The new-music ensemble Alarm Will Sound has developed a casually dynamic style that is like Kronos gone orchestral.

Second, Kronos proved that the string quartet, long the most self-consciously "classical" of classical ensembles, could become a kind of all-terrain vehicle in contemporary culture. Early on, they made a near-total commitment to living composers, and also explored jazz, rock, and folk music. Various quartets have specialized in new music--the Arditti Quartet, too, has played hundreds of premieres--but Kronos is notable for its global vision. Refusing to limit themselves to classical genres and established new-music circles, they have worked with composers and musicians from dozens of countries, from Argentina to Zimbabwe. As a result, they helped to bring into being the thriving marketplace for what is known as "world music." The phrase is subject to constant intellectual debate, but in Kronos's case it signifies a simple recognition that classical music is no longer an exclusively European-American enterprise, and that the role of the composer is undergoing an unpredictable evolution. At one of their Carnegie concerts, Kronos brought in the Inuit throat-singer Tanya Tagaq, who has collaborated with them to create a work called "Nunavut," in which each member of the quartet improvises on Tagaq's low moans and piercing cries. There was no "composer" as such, but the experience was raucously unlike anything I'd ever heard.

Anyone who likes Kronos has probably been exasperated with them at one time or another. Their recordings for the Nonesuch label are as inconsistent as Bob Dylan's post-1966 catalogue, though equally worth sifting through. When they venture too far afield, as in their politely grungy cover of Hendrix's "Purple Haze," they look foolish; and some of their globalist ventures, such as the 1992 compilation "Pieces of Africa," are pale echoes of the real thing, world music with training wheels. Still, they are never insincere in their enthusiasms, and when there is a meeting of minds--as happened when Steve Reich created for them his multimedia masterpiece "Different Trains," or when Morton Feldman gave them a six-hour-long quartet--masterpieces join the canon. The best thing about Kronos is their unflagging curiosity about the world. Their failures are as riveting as others' successes, and their successes have widened the world of sound.

Kronos's first three programs at Carnegie's Zankel Hall offered the usual thrills and spills. The first concert was a long, grim, but absorbing affair, addressing themes such as the Holocaust, September 11th, and eternal Slavic ...