A plain hymn stands at the center and never leaves. The quartet does not turn it into drama so much as keep returning the same upright melody through different bodies—high filigree, low cello warmth, middle-voice gravity—until the act of handing it on becomes the point. The surface stays suspended and harmonic, pressure more held than driven, as if reverence were a texture rather than a peak. What sticks is not invention but loyalty: a communal tune made intimate by four players who refuse to abandon its simplicity, only to look at it again from another seat in the same small room.