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How one approaches
Bach depends greatly on how one thinks of the great kapellmeister.
If you think he was the archetype of well-mannered academic counterpoint,
then a calm exposition of his unfolding polyphonies is appropriate.
If you take the opposing view and view him as an innovative Renaissance
master who captured the mood of his times - raising baroque music
into a wide-ranging conucorpia of emotions and moods and styles
- then a more, shall we say, "explosive" style would be the ticket.
 Robert
Levin's view with respect to the English Suites, judging
from his not unsympathetic reading, lies somewhere between the two.
As a result, it has something of the best of both worlds - full
of bipartite character without being entirely schizophrenic - although,
to be sure, some points and nuances of the performance did slip
through the cracks. But enough clichés already and onto the
music itself.
Johann
Sebastian Bach wrote several suites for keyboard and stringed instruments,
and the particular collection which became known as the English
Suites date from his Weimar (1708-1714) period, preceding the
French Suites and Partitas (comprising, in total,
the first part of the Clavierübung). Johann Nikolaus
Forkel, in Bach's Life and Works, wrote of them as:
"Six
great Suites, consisting of preludes, allemandes, courants, sarabandes,
jigs &c. They are known by the name of the English Suites
because the composer made them for an Englishman of rank."
| Suite
(a.k.a. 17th Century Dance Mega Hits)
The
term suite as we use it today carries several meanings:
a retinue of servants, a unit of connected rooms, a matching
set of furniture, even a collection of computer software.
The same meaning holds musically, referring to a type of composition
comprising a series of movements in identical or related keys
with common musical ideas.
The
earliest use of this word in this context was related to the
European dances. The slow and stately pavane and fast
triple galliard date as far back as the 1400s. The
sarabande (slow triple time) came later, sometimes
as a prelude and not a dance in itself. The pavane
and galliard later evolved in the French courts into
the allemande and courante. The English gigue
(or jig) joined the sarabande as it, too, gained popularity.
Nonetheless,
it took a German composer, J.J.Froberger, to combine these
dances into a regular cosmopolitan pattern which, with various
options, formed the basis for the instrumental suites of Handel
and Bach. The suite would become the mainstay of the Baroque
until it was overtaken by the sonata form in the Classical
era.
Froberger's
suite began with the German allemande, followed by
the French courante, the Spanish sarabande and
finally the English gigue (after a French word for
fiddle). Additional movements included the minuet (a
French dance from Poitou), bourrée, gavotte
(another French dance, after Proven&ccdeil;ale for "alpine"),
polonnaise (a country dance from Poland, as the name
suggests) and musette.
These
"optional extras" came between the sarabande and the
gigue. Sometimes this entire sequence was prefaced
by a prélude (also more fancifully described
as fantasia and overture). Even the Suite itself
was variously known as Ordres in French, Partitas
in German and Italy, and Lessons in England.
Bach's
compositions in this field is regarded as the pinnacle of
the form, with four Orchestral Suites as well as solo
works for violin, cello and clavier (usually in sets of six).
Even as the Classical age saw the development of the sonata
and the symphony, the idea of the suite remained in the divertimento
and the serenade.
In
the late nineteenth century, the suite began to reappear in
a number of styles. Composers returned to the early days and
re-created the baroque in modern dress, such as Ravel's Le
Tombeau de Couperin and Grieg's Holberg Suite.
Also, the suite also became the means by which music originally
written for theatre, ballet or opera could be brought into
the concert hall. Thus we find alternate versions of Bizet's
L'Arlesienne and Stravinsky's The Firebird -
suites whose popularity have surpassed the original forms
in which they were first composed.
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In
Robert Levin's self-confessed "voyage of exploration" on this recording,
he has chosen to play these works on a piano (he gives a spirited
five-page defense of this decision in the programme notes), contending
that "(he) decided to use a piano in the end. It simply offers more
advantages. The full, exhalted sound of the piano gives you an idea
of its philosophical weight." Personally, although he makes a very
cogent argument for his choice, it is still his playing itself that
makes the best case for it.
The
works are presented straight through in numerical order, one to
six. Suite No.1 may not be the most accessible of the set,
and it showed. The reading was generally straightlaced - too much
at times, it seemed - with the courante II and bourrée
I wanting in dance-like quality. But the double I was
smoothly phrased and the improvised ornaments, in general, were
intelligent and made the music sparkle.
Suite
No.2 carries on with the good effort, with a charming courante
and catchy pianistic effects in the bourrées. But
the phrasing in the closing gigue is somewhat nervy, especially
taken at such hectic tempo.
Suite
No.3 finds Levin at his most insightful on the first disc. He
plays Bach's les agréments for the sarabande,
drawing on the composer's "model" for embellishments. There is even
a hint of humour in the gavottes, with Levin swapping trills
for mordents in the repetatur; a bit more rhythmic bounce
would have made it sublime.
Suite
No.4 is as ebullient as the preceding suites. All the movements
are nicely done, with a regal allemande, a characteristic
sarabande and eponymously muscular gigue. There are
also some ear-tickling ornaments in the prélude and
menuetts, but by no means could this be considered anything
more than a pleasantly competent reading.
In
contrast to the lukewarmness of No.4, Suite No.5 displays
the widest range of moods between each of the movements, with Levin's
pianistic tonal shading at its idiomatic best: a robust pré
and gigue, sandwiching a delightful miniature-like allemande,
a stately courante and a charming passpied en rondeau.
This is the most insightful performance in the collection.
The
prélude of Suite No.6 is the longest inter
pares, clocking in at just over seven minutes. Levin makes some
good credientials for himself with his rendition, smoothly accelerating
between tempos. The later sarabande and allemande
movements were a bit on the lethargic side, but the exuberance of
the courante and gavotte balanced it out somewhat.
The gigue is also a strong, fitting closure to an inventive
and compelling "voyage".
The
journey, as the cliché goes, is more important than the destination,
and trite as it may sound, this is true of Levin's enterprise with
the English Suites. He has given this music his own insightful
touch, and his use of a piano contributes a warm body of tonal voluptuousness
which definitely lends a different quality to the music-making.
Certainly, he has succeeded in his contention to make the best possible
case for Bach's music within the modern context.
The
sound is excellent, and with the exception of the occasional awkward
translation, the four-language documentation is first-class, although
we have come to expect no less from Hänssler. Prof Levin will
next be going on to record The Well-Tempered Clavier on a
variety of instruments; something which, on the strength of his
pianistic English Suites, should be well worth looking forward
to.
BENJAMIN
CHEE enjoys listening harpsichord music in the small hours of
the morning, waiting for live European Champions League games.
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734: 1.7.2000
© Benjamin Chee
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