Masaaki Suzuki BACH Toccatas

TOCCATAS

Jean Rondeau BACH DYNASTIE

                                                                BACH DYNASTIE

Mahan Esfahani BACH The Toccatas

Bach's first biographer, Johann Forkel, dubbed BWV910 - 916 ‘Jugendübungen’, but the toccatas are decidedly more than 'youthful exercises. In them the emerging composer cut his teeth in the flamboyant, improvisatory ‘phantasticus' style, and delved into improbably extended fugal writing (the C minor’s spreading luxuriantly across ten pages in the Bärenreiter Urtext). They overflow with the passions and excesses of youth, and, consumed end-to-end, can make for a daunting listen. But under Mahan Esfahani’s fleet fingers, and even fleeter imagination, they positively fly—invigorating vehicles for his custom-built harpsichord complete with thunderous 16-foot stop whose bottom Ds in BWV913 sound like heralds of the apocalypse.

If his fondness for the 16-foot beast can occasionally become a little wearying, and the instrument’s hearty resonance in a closely recorded sound picture sometimes obtrudes, these are readily forgotten as Esfahani continually finds more in the music than the page might suggest. (There’s a section in the F sharp minor where Bach surrenders to a sequence that goes round and round like a piece of forlorn luggage abandoned on an airport carousel!) Fugues that in other performances outstay their welcome simply don’t. Esfahani perfectly understands the toccatas’ architecture, yet celebrates their quirkiness and, interrogating every note, is generous with expressive pauses. Perhaps the D major’s first Allegro is a tad brusque, but the über-phantasticus opening to the D minor is relished to its Gothic hilt; the pacing of the epic C minor fugue is masterly; and its G minor cousin’s all-consuming swagger is irresistible. (Paul Riley)

Keith Jarrett J.S. BACH Das Wohltemperierte Klavier Buch II

If, as I do, you enjoy Bach's 48 Preludes and Fugues played on a variety of keyboard instruments, then Keith Jarrett's choice of a piano for Book 1 and a harpsichord for Book 2 may well appeal to you. I have been listening to his performances, especially of Book 1—which has been available for some time ((CD) 835 246-2, 10/88)—many times over and find much both to admire and enjoy. Jarrett seems to me to have successfully bridged the jazz world with the classical, proving himself in the process to be quite a formidable Bach player. There is nothing gimmicky or shallow in his playing; indeed, his fine rhythmic sense allied to a lively feeling for gesture, his grasp of ornament and his sheer spontaneity are aspects of the jazz musician's craft as much as the classical player's and they serve Bach's music extremely well.
If I have a criticism to make of Jarrett's Bach playing, it is that rhythmically he errs on the side of caution, seldom if ever allowing himself that degree of latitude—an effective and important aspect of style—favoured by more seasoned harpsichordists. On the other hand, there is no lack of vitality in his pulse and some readers I know will appreciate his keeping to the straight and narrow. The poetic C sharp major and the D minor Preludes (Book 2) provide good examples.
Listening to Book 2, one cannot but be impressed by Jarrett's fluency and seemingly effortless grasp of a technique which is, after all, quite different from that demanded by the piano. His is gentle, clearly articulated, unfussy and unpretentious playing which reaches the heart of the music without distraction or detour. This is demonstrated in the lovely E flat Prelude, where I distinctly hear Jarrett doing a Glenn Gould and humming along—a good sign rather than a bad one, I always feel.
I part company with him in a mild way over his execution of the grace-note in the three places where it occurs in this same Prelude; but he is in the best company, with players like Davitt Moroney (Harmonia Mundi) offering the same solution. My preference though, is for Kenneth Gilbert (Archiv Produktion) who, along with Wanda Landowska (RCA), Gustav Leonhardt (Deutsche Harmonia Mundi/BMG) and Colin Tilney (Hyperion), fit the passing note more comfortably into the prevailing motion. But, as I implied earlier on, these are performances which are likely to give enduring pleasure, above all, perhaps, for Jarrett's awareness of the music's poetic content. There is a serenity and a sensibility in his playing of the E major Prelude and Fugue, for example, which convey variously the grandeur, the delicate tracery and the poetry of Bach's music while also underlining its timelessness.
In short, an impressive and mainly satisfying release which stands up to comparison with the many fine performances currently available. My first choices remain Moroney (harpsichord), Tilney (clavichord, Book 1; harpsichord, Book 2), Gilbert (harpsichord) and Edwin Fischer (piano—EMI), but Jarrett's interpretation is not far behind in my affection and esteem. The instrument sounds well, but is described rather in the manner of a cheap and probably undrinkable EC wine as Italian/German style. A fine release. (Nicholas Anderson, Gramophone 9/1991)

Marie van Rhijn MARIN MARAIS Dans les jardins d'Eurytus

Marie van Rhijn's 2016 album on the Evidence label is a collection of brilliant harpsichord pieces arranged from the tragédie en musique, Alcide, a collaboration by Marin Marais and Louis Lully, son of the composer Jean-Baptiste Lully. Marais was most famous as a composer of viol music, which became enormously popular in the court of Louis XIV, though he is not known to have composed any works for the harpsichord, so these keyboard transcriptions of his operatic music might be a bit unexpected. Consisting of airs and dances, such as the courante, the sarabande, the menuet, and the passepied, most of the pieces here consist of two lines with elaborate ornamentation and are quite suitable to the keyboard. Van Rhijn is a virtuoso of the harpsichord, as well as an authority on vocal music of the French Baroque, so her lively performances convey something of the drama and florid lyricism of the original work, infused with a personal flair that makes her playing fascinating. In addition to the pieces from Alcide, van Rhijn also plays harpsichord adaptations of the Suite in B minor for viol da gamba, including the "Tombeau pour Monsieur de Lully," which rounds out the program with more familiar music by Marais. Highly recommended. (Blair Sanderson)

Christophe Rousset J.S. BACH BWV 988 - BWV 971 - BWV 831 - BWV 903 - BWV 825-830

In the United States, Christophe Rousset's Decca recordings of Bach keyboard works have had a spotty history – here today, gone tomorrow. Fortunately, Decca has now repackaged these recordings into a four-disc set that sells for only $7.00 per disc. However, it's best not to assume that the set will indefinitely be on the U.S. market; in other words, snap it up before it's yanked.

Rousset's Decca/Bach recordings are essential for the Bach serious record collector and anyone else who prizes idiomatic interpretations of some of Bach's most compelling and glorious keyboard works. Rousset's style is generally informed by sharp contours, buoyant rhythms, brilliant phrasing, excellent detail of musical lines, poignant slow movements and very speedy and even wild fast movements. Overall, his interpretations crackle with energy. Another trait I love is that Rousset is often youthful and exuberant while at the same time expressing a full life's experience of regret and disappointment. In this regard, his performances remind me of excellent interpretations of Schumann's Kinderszenen where each note displays the maturity of adulthood as well the wonder of a child.

Disc 1 contains a very aggressive Goldberg Variations, and I love every minute of it. The performance is brash and never dawdles; it has great rhythmic bounce and a compelling musical flow. Although youthful exuberance is in abundance, there is a hardened element that creates a gripping aesthetic contrast. I think of this version as "Bach The Bounty Hunter". He busts through all obstacles and always quickly gets his man.

Rousset plays most of the variations with great rhythmic vitality and exhilaration, making this reviewer want to bounce off the walls. Although Rousset's tempos are significantly faster than the norm, he never allows them to diminish emotional content. In the Aria and those variations not conducive to an exhilarating presentation, Rousset is equally compelling. Listen to the pristine beauty and longing of the Aria, the strong contrast between remorse and salvation in Variation 9, the subtle negativity of Variation 11, the bitter/sweet nature of Variation 13, the pathos in Variation 15, the stunning rays of light in Variation 21, the spiritual side of Variation 24 and the bleak terrains of Variation 25 referred to as the "Black Pearl". Yes, Rousset connects on all cylinders, and I have no problem considering his Goldbergs one of the elite versions on the market.

Disc 2 covers four masterful Bach works, and Rousset applies the same magnificent qualities found in his Goldberg Variations. Each performance is in the top echelon with special notice going to the Italian Concerto's exquisite dialogue in the Andante and the visceral excitement of the Presto. Rousset delivers the most propulsive French Overture on record, his 1st Duet is the most austere and commanding I've ever heard, and his interpretation of the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue revels in the work's macabre elements.

Discs 3 and 4 contain Bach's 6 Partitas for Keyboard, a rich vein of architectural and emotional variety. In these works I feel that Rousset places greater priority on structural clarity with some dampening of interest in visceral thrills (although there are still many instances of exhilaration). The advantages of clarity reveal that Rousset is both youthful/exuberant and experienced/melancholy in each note and chord he plays. I find the contrasts illuminating and riveting, the result being one of the most rewarding sets on either piano or harpsichord.

As for sound considerations, I am quite pleased that these Decca recordings are much less reverberant than Rousset's recent outings on the Ambroisie label. The Decca sound has plenty of body and depth, and it allows Rousset's sharp phrasing and pin-point articulation to grab hold of the listener.

Except for those allergic to the harpsichord, the Rousset set is an indispensable part of the Bach keyboard enthusiast's music library. These are tremendously vibrant interpretations full of contrast and enlightening detail, so sit yourself down and listen to five wonderful hours of Bach. (Copyright © 2007, Don Satz)

Paul Giger / Marie-Louise Dähler TOWARDS SILENCE

For his sixth album for ECM, violinist Paul Giger joins harpsichordist Marie-Louise Dähler for a centuries-spanning program of improvisations, complemented by arrangements of Bach and Giger’s own passionate music. The title of the opening improvisation, From Silence to Silence, would seem to be a meta-statement for ECM, the ultimate asymptotic relationship between the musical utterance and its inevitable cessation. The opening bass note of the harpsichord speaks with the quiet force of the earth as Giger’s violin skips above it. Such growls from the harpsichord are typically relegated to continuo status, anchor rather than all-consuming statement. But here they emerge with a grand narrative all their own. The lovingly rendered Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations that follows is yet another grand narrative, the urtext over which all variations are laid. This flow by contrasts continues throughout the album, juxtaposing the extended techniques of Cemb a quattro (which sounds for all like the soundtrack to a Brothers Quay film) and the crystalline highs of Halfwhole with the Vivace from Bach’s Sonata V in F minor for violin and obligato harpsichord, BWV 1018. The brilliance of this program is that its Baroque touches come across as the more esoteric against the status quo established by Giger and Dähler’s enticing musical language, such that the Allegro from the selfsame sonata seems almost avant-garde in the wake of Dorian Horizon. Giger’s solo pieces also nourish, as does the overtonal nectar of Gliss a uno, which is played in that mystic liminal range where the string gives up its inner secrets. Two further movements from the Bach sonata frame Bombay II, which expands beautifully on Giger’s original as it appeared on Schattenwelt. Spurred along by his footbells, it mourns with the cry of a bird in whose talons the final thread is taken, pulled from our hearts until it breaks into the silence toward which the album professes to travel. This one-of-a-kind session is a most fortuitous meeting point, one sure to yield wonders with every listen. I’ve always felt that Giger is best heard alone, but of the collaborations on record this one ranks with Alpstein as being among the most intuitive.