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Angela
Hewitt occupies the same position today in Bach keyboard playing
that Glenn Gould enjoyed a generation or so ago. Since winning the
1985 Toronto International Bach Piano Competition, she has been
hailed in 1999 as "the Bach pianist par excellence of her generation"
by The Sunday Times of London, and as "nothing less than
the pianist who will define Bach performance on the piano for years
to come," according to a 1998 edition of Stereophile.
In
her recordings of the Partitas (Hyperion 67191/2 - 2 discs, full-price)
and French Suites (Hyperion 67121/2 - 2 discs, full-price), Hewitt
presents a style of Bach playing falling midway between period and
old-style practices. She plays on a modern concert grand and is
not afraid of using the shading and colors available on that instrument.
She uses these resources sparingly and with taste, however, allowing
the counterpoint and dance rhythms to predominate with telling effect.
Her
interpretations are scholarly, well thought out, but not mannered
or eccentric as Gould's recordings
could sometimes be. There is an engaging sense of flow to Hewitt's
playing, as well as a sense of adventure and discovery, plus a love
of Bach's music that shines through every note. She is also an excellent
writer, as attested by her scholarly, well-penned and thoroughly
informative liner notes.
 So
now Hewitt comes to the Goldbergs, one of the colossi of keyboard
literature as well as one of the summits of Bach's compositional
output. Bach somewhat modestly called the work "Keyboard Practice,
consisting of an Aria with Diverse Variations, for the Harpsichord
with 2 Manuals. Composed for Music Lovers, to Refresh their Spirits,"
and Hewitt quotes Gould, regarding this title, as calling it "a
very down-to-earth description of such a great work."
Self-effacing
or not, Bach brings up a key point about this work by the title
he chose. A top-flight performance of these variations will leave
a listener refreshed instead of enervated, intrigued by Bach's ingenuity
despite the length that some performances can run, especially if
all the repeats are taken. (Gould's 1981 recording, taken without
repeats, runs approximately 55 minutes. Konstantin Lifschitz' live
Moscow recital on Denon, with repeats, lasts nearly 80.)
While
not the longest performance of the Goldbergs, Hewitt's is certainly
the most stimulating. If Martha Argerich's Bach suggests candlelight
flickering through a stained glass window, then Hewitt evokes a
series of courtly dances. She articulates the rhythms of sarabandes,
gigues and passepieds with a knowing ear and a graceful touch. There
is a tenderness running from the aria through many of the variations,
as well as depth of feeling and an occasionally playful quality.
I have never heard Variation 23 played so infectiously - Hewitt
calls it "a game of catch-me-if-you-can" between the right and left
hands - while having the counterpart so clearly articulated.
Hewitt
also does not rush the music. Of the different versions I have heard,
hers is the most relaxed, allowing plenty of room for themes and
counterthemes to interact and us to marvel afresh at Bach's polyphony.
She opens the second half of variations (Variation 16) slowly enough
to fully articulate the theme and where Bach is going with it. This
moment in Gould 81 goes by in a flurry of notes. Lifschitz' tempo
is better but he does not articulate the theme altogether clearly,
so it seems more sluggish. Hewitt, by making the theme more clipped
yet slowing the tempo, keeps the shape of the phrase yet gives it
a distinguished air of pomp and ceremony.
There
are two ways to play this music in terms of overall structure -
either as one overarching span welded together with a general pace,
as Gould 81 does, or as a wall of individual bricks held together
by the mortar of a common theme, as Gould did in his 1955 recording.
Hewitt takes the latter course, but instead of fragmenting the piece
as Gould 55 did, she takes a more understated approach, playing
up each variation's individual characteristics while not losing
sight of the big picture.
 This
approach also lends unpredictability to the proceedings, which Hewitt
is only happy to oblige. Just when you think you know how she is
going to play the next variation, she changes up on you, taking
a different speed, giving a different shading, or enunciating the
phrase altogether differently. She does this with good taste and
refinement, lending a sophisticated yet good-humored twist to the
piece. The approach is literally a breath of fresh air.
This
spontaneity carries over to Hewitt's treatment of repeats. Having
played the Goldbergs in concert without repeats, she adds them here.
As she points out in her notes, by adding the repeats, "I find [the
work's] impact immensely heightened, the architecture so much more
evident, and the possibility for variations within the variations
endless." To this end, she gives the repeats an unending variety
in dynamics, phrasing and coloration, adding intrigue to an already
multi-faceted interpretation.
With
so many positives, the only negative is a pair of extremely long
pauses, one between Variations 15 and 16, and the other near the
end of the work, just before the restatement of the aria. The intent
is to let the notes fade and underline that one section of the piece
has ended, another is beginning. This practice may work in concert
performances, when the audience can tell from the player's body
language that more is coming. On disc, this practice can be disconcerting,
especially if the listener is new to the work. Perhaps a few seconds
less on each pause would have served the same purpose yet left less
chance for confusion.
Even
if you are a firm believer in Bach played on harpsichord, I would
encourage you to try this recording. It strikes an excellent balance
between period and modern-day sensibilities, transcending both by
literally giving us the best of both worlds, and becoming far more
than the sum of its parts. At the same time, Hewitt's attention
to specifics makes the Goldbergs seem newly written, and her playing
gives the piece the best championship it has had in quite some time.
Overall, this recording is not a document that any Bach lover can
safely ignore.
Jonathan
Yungkans has not been a Bach lover, but he is slowly coming
around, so there's hope for him yet.
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783:
20.10.2000 ©Jonathan Yungkans
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