“A musician cannot hope to move the listener unless he himself is
moved. He must of necessity feel all of the affects that he hopes to
arouse in his audience, for the revealing of his own humour will
stimulate a like humour in his listener."
Have there ever been words more germane to the central mission of all
musicians than these? Written by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, they are
found in his Versuch Ober die wahre Art das Clavier zu spielen ("Essay
on the True Art of Keyboard Playing"), and though they are inscribed in
a book seemingly aimed at the craft of playing an instrument, they
reveal their author's true purpose to have been the art of making music,
and the life-changing force he believed this endeavor to be.
During his time in Berlin he penned some of the most affecting and
expressive music of the 18th century, including the three works on this
recording. Take the Concerto in A major, for instance. The exuberance of
the orchestral opening cannot be mistaken for anything other than pure
joy in music-making, and hardly betrays its author's unhappy
circumstances. Ample virtuosity evinces a complete understanding of the
cello and sits well under the hand but is difficult enough that only a
rare cellist dispatches it with a dry forehead. The soloist's use of
material originating with the orchestra - and vice versa - hints at the
absolute synergy amongst disparate parts that Emanuel must have learned
from his only teacher, Johann Sebastian. This feature serves as fodder
for an interplay between soloist and ensemble where one begins a thought
and the other finishes it. It is found frequently in the Concerto in A minor, at times exciting, as in the third movement, and at others
intimate, as in the single-note utterances in the second movement. The
first movement is set like a drama, and reminds me of the similarity
between music-making and acting, especially when Emanuel's exhortation
to move the listener is observed. (Guy Fishman)
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