FLINDERS QUARTET
Elizabeth Sellars • violin
Wilma Smith • violin
Helen Ireland • viola
Zoe Knighton • cello

AGATHA YIM, POLYPHONIC PICTURES filming and editing
THOMAS GRUBB, MANO MUSICA sound engineering, editing and mastering

Filmed May 2026 in the Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre, Wurundjeri Country/Southbank

This project was made possible through support from Creative Victoria and FQ’s Fifth String donors

MAURICE RAVEL (1875-1937)
String Quartet in F major (composed 1903)

I. Allegro moderato - très doux
II. Assez vif - très rythmé
III. Très lent
IV. Vif et agité

As Ravel’s first fully fledged work at the age of 28, this quartet launched him as a “serious” composer. While earlier works such as the Pavane pour une infante défunte are certainly popular, it is this quartet that has inspired countless composers arguably even more than its near-contemporary, the quartet by Claude Debussy. The similarities between the two are striking: the playful, pixie-like pizzicato second movement, the deeply felt and sonorous slow movement, and the shared fascination with colour and texture. Both works also draw on unifying thematic material across movements, and intriguingly, both composers wrote only a single string quartet. Perhaps not because they couldn’t write more, but because they didn’t need to. Each used the form to make a statement, then moved on to other musical worlds.

Given this context, it’s no surprise that Debussy became Ravel’s unlikely champion when his teacher Gabriel Fauré (to whom the work is dedicated) suggested significant revisions. Debussy’s response is wonderfully blunt: “In the name of the gods of music, do not change a single note.” Ravel may not have won the Prix de Rome, but this quartet has gone on to become one of the most cited sources of inspiration for composers, including those on this program, Eric Avery and Nicole Brady.

Ravel was meticulous. His clothes were tailored to perfection, his handwriting immaculate, and his scores engraved with extraordinary precision. Yet his home was filled with miniature objects, revealing a delightfully quirky sensibility. That duality, precision and imagination perhaps finds its way into the quartet itself, where a sensuous, flowing surface coexists with clockwork clarity.

Beneath the first movement’s warmth lies a beautifully clear sonata structure, though Ravel can’t resist a touch of sleight of hand: when the second theme returns, the upper parts remain unchanged, while a subtle shift in the cello quietly restores the home key. Like Debussy, he places the scherzo second - rhythmically vital and texturally playful - before a more introspective central section briefly suspends time. The slow movement unfolds like a private monologue, with fragments of earlier material drifting in and out of focus. Ravel’s imagination for texture is extraordinary here: murmuring accompaniments, delicate detail, and sudden surges of intensity that dissolve into something more inward and nostalgic. The finale bursts in with restless energy, driven by its uneven 5/8 pulse and constant shifts between lyricism and urgency. It was this movement that Fauré dismissed, yet it now feels like the inevitable conclusion, gathering threads from earlier in the work and propelling them forward with dazzling virtuosity.

Along with Schoenberg, Ravel “could have been ours,” as Vincent Plush memorably observed. He applied for a position at the Sydney Conservatorium in 1927, but ultimately never took up the post.