Search results: Search results
56 results
Products
A NEW ANGLE
Bach: Works for Harpsichord / Skowroneck
C. P. E. Bach: Harpsichord Concertos / Belder, Musica Amphion

C.P.E. Bach’s keyboard concertos enjoy several fine performances on piano, but finding really top-notch interpretations on harpsichord until recently has proven elusive. For years he was best represented by Gustav Leonhardt’s version of the D minor concerto Wq 23, but this newcomer adds three more works to the still meager C.P.E. Bach concerto discography. Let’s start with the “orchestra”. I use the quotation marks because Musica Amphion consists of single strings–so, five players. They sound marvelous: big and bold in the tuttis, tellingly intimate and expressive in lyrical passages. Here is compelling evidence that string players on period instruments need not sacrifice all timbral beauty in pursuit of “authenticity”.
Pieter-Jan Belder has recorded lots of Bach before, including a fine set of C.P.E.’s Kenner und Liebhaber works. He’s a brilliant player with ample virtuoso chops for these technically demanding concertos. All three were composed in the 1730s and ’40s; that is, while J.S. Bach was very much alive and active, but they couldn’t sound more different. It’s a remarkable tribute to Emanuel’s independent voice that he was composing such characterful music at this early date; but then, consider who his teacher was and what an example he had to follow, even if his own personal style was quite different.
C.P.E. Bach is best known for his wild, passionate music in minor keys, and we have an excellent example of this in the G minor concerto Wq 6. Listen to the theme of its finale for a remarkable instance of something that still strikes us as uniquely intense and expressively powerful. However, Bach was just as interesting writing happy music in major keys. The finale of the E major concerto, one of only nine published in his lifetime–six of which belong to Wq 43–contains one of his catchiest tunes. However, like the early Concerto in G major Wq 3, the music is just as energetic, just as surprising, and just as compelling. This is just great stuff, and you owe it to yourself to savor these pieces.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Bach: Transcriptions
This fascinating set provides a refreshing window onto a much studied, much idolized, and oft performed master of composition, allowing many of his familiar works to appear in a new light, recognizable and yet transformed. Bach’s music is often described as indestructible, in the sense that no matter how it is performed, or in whichever arrangement, its essential spirit survives. Many of the transcriptions included here represent the work of contemporary, world-class performers bringing Bach’s masterpieces into the repertoire of their own instruments or ensembles, thereby giving new timbres to the genius of Bach’s contrapuntal lines. The much-loved Goldberg Variations, for example, are given not one, but two new arrangements, as the interwoven voices for keyboard are divided between the members of a string trio and a recorder quintet. Others are scholarly reconstructions of concertos for what might well have been Bach’s originally intended instruments – versions that were subsequently lost to future generations.
From 1729 Bach directed the Leipzig Collegium Musicum, an association consisting of students and musical citizens, and for his performances with them Bach needed to provide secular works. But his time was largely absorbed with writing sacred music for St Thomas’s Church in his role as Kantor. So Bach devised harpsichord concertos by adapting concertos he had originally written for other instruments. Musicologists believe that the seven works known today as Bach’s concertos for solo harpsichord were initially composed as violin or oboe concertos. A third category included here might be called Bach transcriptions by 20th-century “giants”. The great Dutch harpsichordist Gustav Leonhardt arranged for the harpsichord various major works by Bach – five from solo violin works, three from solo cello suites and two movements from a partita for solo flute and a suite for solo lute respectively. These are classics of the arranger’s art, refined and thoroughly idiomatic.
ART OF FUGUE
The Colourful Telemann / Kuijken, Indianapolis Baroque Orchestra
-----
REVIEW:
Despite the title, the Sinfonia melodica is neither a symphony in the modern sense nor Italianate; it’s a set of French-style dances and, as such, it receives a stylish performance on Naxos. With Kuijken on hand, playing his copy of a baroque flute, inevitably the high points of the new Naxos recording are the two concertos for two flutes.
There can be no argument with the title: Telemann’s music is colourful, sometimes more colourful than that of Bach. And, with much of the colour in this music provided by the flute—two of them in a pair of concertos here—it’s as well to have a flautist like Barthold Kuijken directing the proceedings.
– MusicWeb International
Bach: Cantatas, Motets & Organ Music / Belder, Gesualdo Consort Amsterdam
In 2012-14, these six albums were issued as individual books, in which format they attracted praise both for the depth of their insights and the excellence of the performances: ‘”Elegant” is the word for this production, equally worthy to give or to keep’ Fanfare (Volume 1). This box makes them available once again at a superbudget price, with a new introductory essay by Peter Quantrill in the booklet, and all the original essays republished at brilliantclassics.com. The result is a highly attractive box for both Bach collectors and for newcomers to the inexhaustible treasure-trove that is his output of cantatas.
The selection of repertoire ranges chronologically from early masterpieces such as Christ lag in Todesbanden BWV4 and the Passacaglia BWV582 to the long period of his maturity as Cantor in Leipzig, when Bach wrote five cycles of cantatas for each feast-day in the church calendar. An important feature of Bach in Context is the use of the church organ as both a continuo and solo instrument. Each album opens with a piece of organ music (a Toccata or Prelude) and ends with another voluntary such as the corresponding fugue.
The albums explore resonant themes which run through Bach’s music, in several cases linked by the chorale hymns on which he based organ and vocal fantasias in his cantatas and motets. Led by the experienced Bach performer Pieter-Jan Belder, who has recorded all of the composer’s harpsichord music for Brilliant Classics, these performances feature one voice per part in a tightly knit vocal consort, according to the theories outlined by Joshua Rifkin, and which have since won wide acceptance. The singers are led by Harry van der Kamp, who has recorded cantatas with many other distinguished early-music directors such as Gustav Leonhardt and Ton Koopman.
Scheidemann: Keyboard Music
C. P. E. Bach: Berlin Symphonies / Zacharias, Lausanne Chamber Orchestra
C. P. E. BACH Symphonies, Wq 174–75, 178–81 • Christian Zacharias, cond; CO de Lausanne • MDG 9401824 (SACD: 68:49)
Students and fans of C. P. E. Bach will rejoice in this recording of six of his short but feisty and innovative symphonies from the late 1700s. Although the performances aren’t quite as dynamic or lively as those by Hartmut Haenchen with the C. P. E. Bach Chamber Orchestra (Berlin Classics) or Gustav Leonhardt with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment (Virgin), they are certainly beautifully phrased and well articulated. The Andante and Largo movements, in particular, have a lovely sense of repose that Haenchen does not always achieve.
As the liner notes explain, the three-movement concert symphony began in Crown Prince Frederick’s small court orchestra. What the notes don’t explain is that it was essentially an outgrowth of the tripartite “overture” style developed by both French and German composers. This may explain C. P. E. Bach’s penchant for linking movements, something that was certainly ahead of its time, but it’s interesting to note that when other composers such as Haydn and Mozart began to emulate this style, they usually wrote three completely separate movements, thus un-linking the music. But, of course, there’s a lot more to Bach’s music here than just linked movements. The harmonic audacity (for its time), angular melodic structure ( far ahead of its time), and quirky pauses in the flow of the music (copied to some extent by Haydn, but largely unique to him) make his music much more than museum pieces. One example among many of his audacity and originality: listen to the agitated string figures in the first movement of the Symphony Wq 178, with their frequent and audacious upward key changes. They sound almost identical to the music with which Gluck introduces his “storm” music in the first scene of Iphigénie en Tauride. To be honest, I’m surprised that C. P. E. Bach’s music isn’t programmed more often in modern-day symphony concerts. It certainly holds up well and, in fact, makes a better complement to any 20th-century works that may also be in the same concert.
This is one of those cases where saying little about a disc actually says a lot. Any attempt to over-analyze this music or over-praise the performances would be futile, since this is primarily an auditory experience. Nevertheless, as I have tried to make clear, these are very good performances of some truly outstanding music.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
BAROQUE MASTER
Bach: Partitas & Sonatas BWV 1001-1006 / Sigiswald Kuijken
BACH Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin (complete) • Sigiswald Kuijken (vn) • DEUTSCHE HARMONIA MUNDI 77043 (2 CDs: 128:22)
British musicians of the tempo-strict style have so dominated the historically informed performance scene that I fear many listeners have forgotten that there were other schools of thought vying for public support during the 1970s and early 1980s. Dutch musicians were, in contrast to many English and some Americans, more concerned with inflection, rubato, a singing tone, and what modern Yuppies call a “holistic” approach. They bound the solving of technical problems to matters of interpretive individuality. The primary, but not the only, musicians of this school were harpsichordist-conductor Gustav Leonhardt, recorder player Franz Brüggen, and the Kuijken family: Sigiswald (violin), Wieland (viola da gamba), Barthold (flute and recorder), and Piet (celesta and harpsichord). Sister Marie was also sometimes in the picture as a mezzo-soprano. All of the principal movers and shakers of the Dutch school (excepting Marie Kuijken, of course) were present and accounted for on Leonhardt’s groundbreaking recording of the Bach Brandenburg Concertos in 1975. It was a statement of musical principle even more so than a performance that proved a HIP orchestra could not only play in tune, but also could clarify the textures of orchestral playing better than most modern-instrument groups.
Yet it was this groundbreaking album featuring one solitary instrument that burst on the HIP world like a bombshell in 1983. Up to that point, it had been assumed that Bach’s solo violin works could only be performed in a more-or-less angular style, that the counterpoint and different “voices” of the music dictated their tempo, contour, and shape. Sigiswald Kuijken proved everyone wrong. He even proved that you could indeed play the Baroque violin without holding it either against the chin or chest, but against the shoulder; that the bow pressure need not be as loose as the Dolmetsch family had insisted, nor as hard as the British insisted; and that the musical style could be curved, even circular in general motion, rather than linear. That this may very well have been the way Bach conceived these works is further suggested by the single page of the manuscript reproduced in the record’s booklet. Bach never wrote the stems or flags of his 16th, 32nd, or 64th notes in a straight line, not even as approximately straight as Mozart and Beethoven did. They were as curvy and irregular as a roller-coaster ride.
I can still remember, in generalities, the lengthy, well-written, and extremely persuasive review of this recording by William Malloch, possibly America’s greatest musicologist, in a 1983 issue of Ovation magazine. In essence, he said (at much greater length) all the things I said in the above paragraph. And he was right. After a hiatus of about three years, when this recording suddenly disappeared from the shelves in 1987, it was issued on CD by Deutsche Harmonia Mundi in 1990. The fact that it has never left the catalog since is, I think, proof enough of its enormous ability not only to persuade the listener but also please the senses.
Above and beyond all the technical hurdles Kuijken overcame and musical decisions he made, these are performances of tremendous love and passion. This is Bach breaking through the glass ceiling of academia and speaking to us across the centuries. This is immense hard work and musicological research forged in the crucible of one man’s heart and soul and put forth for the world to judge its intrinsic worth. More than a quarter-century after they were recorded in November and December of 1981, they have been judged unassailable—not, perhaps, “definitive” readings, but better than definitive. They opened the doors to other individualistic interpretations, equally valid, none of which have anything to do with Nathan Milstein—fine musician though he was—sawing away in strict tempo and one volume level through them.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
CHORUSES
Bach: The French Suites / Alessandra Artifoni
BACH French Suites, BWV 812–817 • Alessandra Artifoni (hpd) • DYNAMIC 757 (2 CDs: 90:44)
It always gives me pause when I encounter an artist new to me and, upon searching the Internet for some biographical background, I find next to nothing. Alessandra Artifoni has no official website and only a number of links pop up—some in Italian only—to sources for this 2012 set of Bach’s French Suites . A one-paragraph bio-blurb in the enclosed booklet doesn’t tell us much either. She was born in Florence in 1967, so at 46 she’s not fresh out of the conservatory or just off the competition circuit. She studied organ and harpsichord in Italy, and then spent 10 years in Switzerland furthering her studies at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. According to the note, Artifoni has made several CDs and radio recordings, but I wasn’t able to find any of them listed beyond this Dynamic release, not even on Amazon’s Italian branch. So, here we have an artist approaching 50, who, for all practical purposes, emerges from nowhere to give us a recording of Bach’s complete French Suites.
How does Artifoni fare? Quite well in fact. She makes her case for these pieces by adopting just tempos, dutifully observing repeats, making clear and precise distinctions between the various embellishment types that appear in the scores, and exhibiting no quirky mannerisms. Moreover, Artifoni’s performances are further enhanced by a richly voiced two-manual harpsichord of exceptional clarity and beauty of tone. It was built in 1997 by Tony Chinnery after a circa 1702 harpsichord by Berlin maker Michael Mietke (?1656/71–1719). Records indicate that Mietke delivered a harpsichord to the court at Köthen in 1719 on the recommendation of Bach, and that it was likely the instrument Bach played in a performance of the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto.
Chinnery lives and works in a villa just north of Florence, and this particular harpsichord from his workshop sparkles with diamond-like glints without any hint of glare or harshness across and between its two evenly matched keyboards. It’s absolutely ideal for these suites, enabling Artifoni to clearly resolve Bach’s linear writing.
Many famous players, of course, have put their individual stamps on these works, performing them on piano as well as on harpsichord. But among just harpsichord versions, the catalog beckons, in no particular order, with entries by Helmut Walcha, Huguette Dreyfus, Ton Koopman, Christophe Rousset, Kenneth Gilbert, Trevor Pinnock, Christopher Hogwood, Gustav Leonhardt, Bob van Asperen, Davitt Moroney, Lars Ulrik Mortensen, and Masaaki Suzuki. I don’t have all of them and haven’t even heard some of them, but of those I do have and/or have heard, I’m comfortable in saying that Alessandra Artifoni can stand with the best of them.
Admittedly, she is not as varied or imaginative in her approach as are some—for example, she doesn’t make much use of different stops to provide contrast in repeated sections, as does Dreyfus, or insert creative embellishments of her own making along the way, as does Rousset—but she is due credit for playing the notes as Bach wrote them, or at least how we think he wrote them, which brings me to one last, if essentially unimportant point about Artifoni’s or Dynamic’s sequencing of the suites on these two discs.
Except for a few movements of these pieces which found their way into Anna Magdalena’s Clavierbüchlein in Bach’s own hand, no autograph scores of the French Suites exist. Not even the title is Bach’s; it first appears in a 1762 treatise by German musicologist Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg (1718–1795). Because of this, later copies and editions took it upon themselves to publish the suites in no particular agreed upon order.
As a result, many players present the suites in numerical order, one through six, which is actually an artifact of their BWV numbers. Since the BWV catalog assigned 812 to the Suite in
D Minor, it became No. 1; 813, assigned to the Suite in C Minor, became No. 2, and so on. But not all players adopt this schema, some preferring to present the suites in some alternate order that makes sense to them or to the record producer laying them out. Just for grins, here’s Artifoni’s sequence compared to Rousset’s.
| D Minor | C Minor | B Minor | E?-Major | G Major | E Major | |
| 812 | 813 | 814 | 815 | 816 | 817 | |
| Artifoni (order) | 5 | 2 | 4 | 1 | 3 | 6 |
| Rousset (order) | 5 | 2 | 6 | 1 | 4 | 3 |
Whether there’s any significance to the fact that Artifoni and Rousset both begin their sets with the E?-Major Suite (BWV 815) followed by the C-Minor Suite (BWV 813), or whether it’s purely coincidental I don’t know, but if there’s a desire to devise some plan based on keys, Bach didn’t make it easy. There’s no obvious formula I can see that would result in a complementary or symmetrical structure. Rousset begins in E?-Major and ends in E Major, two keys that may be adjacent to each other on the keyboard but are a universe apart in terms of tonal relationships. Artifoni also begins in E?-Major but ends in B Minor, a tonal relationship of an augmented fifth (or diminished sixth) that would have taken the curls right out of Bach’s wig. So, one must conclude that since no order makes sense, any order will do.
The more I listen to Aritifoni’s French Suites the more I like them. They won’t displace other favorites, chief among which are Rousset and, with apologies to any elitists who may happen upon this review—I’m sure there are none among Fanfare ’s readers—Keith Jarrett, whose ventures into Bach, I think, are generally underappreciated. Anyway, Artifoni’s new release is highly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bach: Clavier Ubung Vol 1 / Benjamin Alard
Born in 1985, the French Alard is both an award-winning harpsichordist and organist who studied at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. At 25, he has already performed with leading period-instrument ensembles, such as La Petite Bande under Sigiswald Kuijken and Capriccio Stravagante under Skip Sempé, and he has established himself as a leading presence as a keyboard artist on the early-music scene, participating in a number of international festivals.
Going up against established masters in this repertoire—and for apples-to-apples comparison I cite only harpsichordists—such as Christophe Rousset, Pieter-Jan Belder, Ralph Kirkpatrick, Gustav Leonhardt, Trevor Pinnock, Igor Kipnis, and Blandine Verlet—the young Alard has stones; you’ve got to give him that. The question is does he have the goods to pull it off? And the answer, in a word, is “yes.”
The six keyboard partitas that comprise Part I of Bach’s Clavier-Übung (Keyboard Practice) in its totality are arguably the pinnacle of the composer’s works for solo harpsichord. Though they are among Bach’s earliest pieces to be published (they appeared in print between 1726 and 1730), they are actually the last of his three sets of keyboard suites to be written. (They were composed between 1725 and 1730–31.) The English Suites were composed sometime between 1715 and 1720, and the French Suites, between 1722 and 1725. We may therefore assume that the partitas are a summation, up to that time, of Bach’s compositional style and technique as applied to the harpsichord, for which they were written.
Speculation has it that Bach intended to write a seventh partita, perhaps as a tribute to his predecessor in Leipzig, Johann Kuhnau, who had published two volumes of his own Neue Clavier-Übung, each containing seven partitas. Bach’s choice of keys for his six partitas does suggest a planned seventh that would have had to be in F Major to complete the scheme; indeed, F Major is the key of the Italian Concerto that opens the Clavier-Übung, part II. Is it possible that the movements of the Italian Concerto would have been incorporated into the seventh, missing, partita? It’s an interesting theory.
In three out of the six partitas, Bach pretty much follows standard operating procedure vis-à-vis succession of movements. All six partitas, without exception, begin with an introductory movement, though fancifully, perhaps, Bach calls each by a different name: Praeludium, Sinfonia, Fantasia, Ouverture, Praeambulum, and Toccata. These are followed in Nos. 1, 3, and 5 by the customary stylized dance movements: Allemande, Courante (or Corrente, depending on whether Bach was in French or Italian mood), and Sarabande. Again, in all six partitas, one or more take-your-pick dance movements, such as Menuet, Gavotte, Passepied, etc., are inserted after the Sarabande. And in all but No. 2, the partitas end with the customary concluding Gigue. But No. 2, one of the three “irregulars,” ends with a movement Bach calls Capriccio, which is not in the usual 6/8 or 12/8 gigue meter, but in 2/4, so it’s not just another gigue by a whimsical name.
In the two remaining “irregular” partitas, Nos. 4 and 6, Bach gets cutesy with the standard layout of movements, inserting an Aria or Air in between the Courante and Sarabande, so that we end up with insertions both before the Sarabande and after it. To mix it up further, in No. 4, Bach calls his Courante by its French name, but the Aria that follows it by its Italian name; whereas in No. 6, he reverses himself, calling his Corrente by its Italian name and his Air by its French name. Whether this has some special significance or not, I don’t know, but is it too much to imagine that Bach wasn’t the stern wig he’s often portrayed as, and that he was just being mischievous? The aforementioned Capriccio movement offers ample evidence of the composer’s off-the-wall humor; it’s a real ear-tickler.
A final footnote to this whole business is that at one point the partitas came close to being called German Suites to complement the already written English and French Suites, which, technically speaking, are no more English or French, respectively, than are the partitas German. And who would know better than Christophe Rousset? Harpsichordist, Baroque music specialist, and Frenchman, he has observed that all of Bach’s keyboard suites follow a largely Italian convention.
Now, back in Fanfare 27:4, Patrick Meanor reviewed a recording of the partitas on the Satirino label performed by harpsichordist Kenneth Weiss. That was in 2004. Six years later, as inexplicably but often happens, the same album was sent to the magazine to be reviewed again, and this time, as recently as 33:5, it was assigned to Christopher Brodersen. The American-born Weiss has long been active on the Parisian period-instrument scene, having collaborated with William Christie and Les Arts Florissants for many years. In any case, both Meanor and Brodersen found much to rave about in Weiss’s readings, which the harpsichordist performs on a copy of a Gottfried Silbermann instrument built by Anthony Sidey. I missed Meanor’s earlier review, but based on Brodersen’s glowing account, I decided to acquire the Weiss on my own. Contra my colleagues, I found Sidey’s harpsichord, or Satirino’s recording of it, hard and metallic sounding and fatiguing to listen to. So, only in part for that reason, Weiss’s recording would not have received my recommendation had I reviewed it.
That is not the case with the sound of Alard’s harpsichord, which is also modeled after a German instrument by Sidey. It is captured perfectly at an ideal distance in the ambient and ever so slightly reverberant acoustic of the Chapelle Notre-Dame de Bon-Secours in Paris. Balanced throughout its registers, of crystal clarity in its voicing, and so dulcet of tone is this instrument that I found myself listening, enchanted, to all six partitas straight through without tiring of it.
If Meanor found Weiss’s performances “passionate,” “poignant,” “terrifying,” and “filled with existential dread,” I found them aggressive, driven, and in-your-face—other reasons, in addition to the aforementioned clangorous and clattering sound of the instrument, that Weiss is not to my liking. In contrast, I find Alard’s readings poetic, lyrical, filled with grace, and ultimately sublime. Perhaps it’s the difference between the American in Paris, Weiss, and the patrician elegance and refinement of the natural-born Frenchman, Alard.
In Alard’s playing, I hear a natural and logical connection to, and extension of, François Couperin and the French keyboard tradition, and I find it exquisitely beautiful. The style is manifested in Alard’s exceptionally imaginative, perfectly timed, and delightful agréments that he applies so tastefully in the binary repeats. Even in the fiendishly difficult Capriccio of the C-Minor Partita, which is already wacky enough as is with its oddball dissonances and harmonic excursions, Alard finds the time and space between the notes to add just the right zinger of an embellishment. Just listen to the mordents that trip by at 1:29 and again at 1:33 in the repeat of the A section. But there are other ways to embellish besides adding ornamental notes, and you can hear it in Alard’s playing of the repeated B section. Here the embellishing takes the form of coordinating the right and left hands differently than in the first time through, so that the syncopated and offbeat rhythms in the counterpoint take on a totally different emphasis.
The more I listened to these performances, the more I came to believe that there is as much genius in Alard’s conception of this music as there is in Bach’s creation of it. For me, this is now, and will be for the foreseeable future, the be-all and end-all of Bach keyboard partita recordings. The set is beautifully presented in a four-panel cardboard foldout with detailed, informative notes in French and English and enhanced by a wealth of photographs. If Weiss’s partitas show up on Brodersen’s 2010 Want List, Alard’s may well show up on mine. But whether it does or not (there are always hard choices to make), if you care about Bach on the harpsichord, you must not be without this release for another minute.
-- Jerry Dubins, FANFARE [9/2010]
NEW GUSTAV LEONHARDT EDITION
Bach: Goldberg Variations; Buxtehude: La capricciosa / Schornsheim
German harpsichordist and organist Christine Schornsheim has studied at the Spezialschule fur Musik Berlin, the Hoschshule fur Musik Berlin, and individually under Gustav Leonhardt, Ton Koopman, Johann Sonnleitner, and Andreas Staier. Christine has been an active freelance harpsichordist since 1985. She has appeared at illustrious festivals all over the world, and performs on stages with conductors such as Sir Georg Solti, Claudio Abbado, Peter Schreier, and more. The cornerstone of this work is the Bach Goldberg Variations. Christine writes: “…the Goldberg Variations rank among the most significant works of clavier literature. I listened to my first recording, produced 25 years ago, only to notice that over the course of the years I have remained true to myself in many respects. On the other hand a process of maturation has taken place, the outcome of which I now indeed wanted to document.”
