The stupidity of the classical piano trio

It’s a right mess, the classical piano trio; the unintended consequence of one of musical history’s more frustrating twists. When the trio first evolved, in the age of Haydn, the piano (or at any rate, its frail domestic forebear) was the junior partner, and the two string instruments, violin and cello, were added to make the silly thing audible. Then the piano started to evolve, while its partners – give or take the odd tweak – really didn’t, much. The end result, by the second half of the 19th century, completely reversed the original balance of power, leaving the two string instruments thrashing for dear life against the onslaught of that glossy, black, all-devouring monster, the modern concert grand.

Unfair? I don’t make the rules. I played in a piano trio as a teenager; we had a delightful, unselfish pianist and it isn’t until you lose one of those that you realise how incredibly rare they are, at least in amateur and student circles. Since the era of Beethoven, most piano trios by major composers have assumed a virtuoso at the keyboard. Combine that with the industrial-strength brilliance of a new Steinway and professional trios now face the same basic problem every time they sit down to play: how to prevent a tyrannosaurus tail wagging a chihuahua-sized dog.

Typically, the solution hangs on the skill – and the civilised impulses – of the individual pianist, and in their early January recital at the Wigmore Hall the Smetana Trio seemed to have found their own distinctive compromise. An ensemble carrying this name has been active in Czechoslovakia and its successor states for more than 90 years, and although the current line-up is a bit more recent, they sounded comfortable enough in their own skin.