THE SUNDAY TIMES :
This second impressive Finnissy disc from Metier includes most of his music for string quartet, though since he is much given to what Grainger called "elastic scoring" - an approach allowing a piece to be performed by different groupings - it is hard to make a definitive list. The first item, Plain Harmony (1993), is a chordal, indeed hymn-like, free-floating composition originally written for amateur orchestra of any shape or size, then revised (1993-1995) for a string quartet that uses part books, not a score. The result is luminous, diatonic, even soothing music, but the comparably "open" Nobody's Jig (1981) is a daunting 19-minute essay in asynchronized abstraction, the textures elusive but fascinating. The String Quartet of 1984 is built on the opposite principle of minutely detailed notation and just as formidable: there are shattering dynamic contrasts. Also included are Multiple Forms of Constraint (1997), significantly cast for violin and string trio, and the brief Sehnsucht (1997), a wispy evocation of late romantic harmony.
Paul Driver

GRAMOPHONE : Critic's Choice for 1998
This is rather special. Perhaps the greatest pleasure of this disc is Finnissy's re-evaluation in each piece of the modes of interaction between the four musicians of this time-honoured medium: the title of the disc, note, is not "String Quartets" but "Works for String Quartet". That questioning attitude stretches to the composer's wide range of stylistic references. If variety is the spice of life, then this disc is hot. And so are the Kreutzer Quartet, whose commitment and spirit make this demanding music sound clear, fluent and gritty. A must for anyone interested in new music, or in the evolution of the string quartet as a genre.
Fabrice Fitch
and from the 1998 “Critics’ Choice” awards:

Surveying the past year's crop I note how many recordings I have reviewed in the Brief Reviews section. Most of this selection is drawn from smaller labels, a sure testament to the efforts of those who go on making records in the face of the gloom-mongering currently swamping the industry. ... But to end here and now I recommend the Kreutzer Quartet's dauntless advocacy of Michael Finnissy's music, a sure sign that the younger generation of performers lacks none of the commitment or the talent of their elders; and that contemporary British music is very much alive and, yes, kicking.
Fabrice Fitch

AVANT NO.11:
...Amid the emotional and musical sophistication (and, in the piano pieces, two-fisted tumult), a vein of simplicity often runs through Finnissy's music. Such is the case with the three pieces called 'Plain Harmony' (1993-95) which open the disc of music for string quartet. Actually, the CD title is something of a misnomer; the strings very rarely cohere into a 'traditional' quartet. (Finnissy obviously has no intention of bolstering our cultural expectations.) 'Plain Harmony' has, for example, no score, only four part books - the four instrumental voices sound simultaneously, but at no point do they sing as one. The vigorous hymnic lines, rhythmic unisons, and dissonance presented as though it were concordance, make for a bracing experience. This is a rough-hewn and extremely sturdy music, profoundly honest about what it is and what it's doing.

The extraordinary complexities of 'Nobody's Jig' (1981) and 'String Quartet' (1984) make a nonsense of the idea of perfect performance. But that doesn't mean Finnissy relinquishes control of the material; nor that clarity of purpose is downplayed. The musicians have to work very hard, and even the listener is required to do his bit. For the first seven minutes of 'String Quartet' the instruments inhabit the extreme upper register, weaving virtually inaudible microtonal lines and dense chromaticisms. Initially, this is baffling: what is going on? Then, without any kind of signposting, the instruments spring into focus. By which time, of course, you're really listening, concentrating like mad, attuned to the slightest shiver of bow on string. The weird thing is, the trick works every time. 'String Quartet' may be the most unrelaxing piece of music I've heard of late. And that, though it sounds like nothing of the sort, is a compliment!
Brian Marley

THE WIRE:
Here are seven of Michael Finnissy's string quartets recorded in St John's Church, Loughton, using a pair of microphones. Sound engineer, producer, digital editor, cover designer and booklet editor is David Lefeber, who also runs the label. Such dedication is not unusual for Finnissy supporters, who tend to be partisan, claiming that he is one of the few real composers to have emerged in England this century. Exposure to the music encourages you to cede the point. Finnissy makes no modish nods towards the popular, but his extremism brings him into the orbit of other radical sounds. Plain Harmony was composed in the early 90s. A pure descending melody that could be an English madrigal meets warped chords simultaneously shimmering and turgid. Finnissy refuses to make the choice between traditional tonality and 12 tone: rich chordal voicings and atonal crises together create his highly personal textures. Nor is lyricism eschewed. Indeed, melody is pursued with such passion it churns up mud from the unconscious. Clean harmony and chaotic murk operate dialectically, transforming themselves into each other in unexpected twists and turns. Pure serialism can be abstract and pretty (e.g. Milton Babbitt). With Finnissy, each discord hurts. Nobody's Jig (1982) is a reminder of the unsettling nature of deserting the key system. Even the sweetness of the violins is sick and sinister: wheedling high notes are fraught with anguish. Yet the composer's focus is clinical - sweated terror frozen into fine art crystals. Intervals zigzag between instruments like thought hesitating between options. An energetic violin makes an unresponsive cello sound like feedback hum - alienated gestures against a backdrop of urban noise pollution. At the same time, any note may bleed into the background and affect the whole. Finnissy undermines music's sense of affirmation, suggesting parallels to A Handful of Dust or Richard Youngs.

The initial theme of Multiple Forms of Constraint is a folkish air Beethoven might have employed, but instead of initiating responsible dialogue, it provokes a slurry of interference and malign echo. Like a febrile insomniac revolving an insoluble problem, the music cannot relax, but nevertheless generates beautiful violin lines, intricacies plotted without a trace of cliche. String Quartet (1984) has a narrative structure, bravely stepping out from the systems obfuscation of so much modern composition. It begins softly, a field of subliminal impulses; after seven minutes, there's a jump into loudness, as if floodlights had been switched on. Climactic violins jeer at each other like gulls, alternating with violent pluckings from the lower instruments. It sounds simple, but Finnissy is stretching his players - irrational timings and unexpected intervals - so there's none of the pop condescension of boom boom Minimalism.

This release makes no concessions to the mass market. Two members of the quartet contribute essays. They're so immersed in Finnissy's scores they don't stop to think how the music might sound to people unversed in modern classical music. Finnissy hollows out the romantic legacy from the inside, spinning lines so tense they sound as if they are traced on a bomb ready to explode. Perhaps the febrile beauty admired by Finnissy's devotees is not so much the pinnacle of art as the ring of truth.
Ben Watson