Alte Pinakothek
Bach:
Art
of Fugue, BWV 1080:
Contrapunctus I and II
Johann
Adam Reincken: Hortus Musicus: Partita no.1 in A minor
Bach:
Art
of Fugue: Contrapunctus
XII and XIIb
Telemann:
Pyrmonter
Kurwoche (Scherzi melodichi per divertimento di colore, che prendono le Acque
minerali in Pirmonte, con Ariette semplice e facili): ‘Venerdi’, TWV 24:e4
Bach:
Art
of Fugue: Contrapunctus
VI; Sonata in G major for viola da gamba and harpsichord, BWV 1027; Art of Fugue: Contrapunctus IX; Trio
Sonata in D minor, BWV 527, arranged for two violins and basso continuo; Art of Fugue: Contrapunctus XI
Barbara Burgdorf, Corinna Desch (violins)
Christiane Arnold (viola)
Friederike Heumann (viola da gamba)
Dirk Börner (harpsichord)
There could hardly be a more
delightful venue for a concert of Baroque – or any –chamber music than one of
the rooms of Munich’s Alte Pinakothek. Here, under the watchful eye(s) of
Rubens’s Last Judgement, we heard from members of the Bavarian State Orchestra music
by Bach, Telemann, and, from the previous generation, Johann Adam Reincken.
We started with Contrapunctus I
and Contrapunctus II from the Art of Fugue: two
violins, viola, and viola da gamba, no harpsichord. It was a ‘period’ sound,
but not aggressively so, and mercifully not entirely without vibrato. More
importantly, the music flowed, Barbara Burgdorf, Corinna Desch (violins),
Christiane Arnold (viola), and Friederike Heumann (gamba) permitting Bach’s
counterpoint to speak – and with it, his harmony. Dynamic contrasts were nicely
variegated, and the two fugues were properly distinguished, the rhythmic lilt
of the second’s subject informing its course, no mere add-on. You might say, ‘it
would, wouldn’t it?’ but you might be sorely surprised. The music’s complexity
grew, Schoenberg-like. All of us at heart know that Bach is the greatest of
all. That need only be shown, not argued.
A modulatory harpsichord improvisation, the first of several from Dirk Börner, took us to A minor for Reincken’s
Partita (as would be transcribed by Bach for keyboard, in his BWV 965). The
musicians’ manner – minus viola – was now freer, which perhaps make sense in
less complex music. There was certainly recognition that melody and harmony
were very different. The different tempi of the first movement offered winning
contrast, yet also sounded consequent. Burgdorf took her solo at quite a lick,
without harrying it, Heumann hers with dignity and then, moving from ‘Adagio’ to
‘Allegro’, with a fine sense of release. A reflective ‘Allemand’ and related,
yet distinct ‘Courant’ followed, the ensuing ‘Saraband’ perhaps somewhat
hamstrung by ‘period’ manners. Still, the closing ‘Gigue’ made for a lively and
highly musical conclusion, the musicians bringing form to life. This is not, by
any stretch, great music, but it was interesting and worthwhile to hear.
Returning to Bach (XII a and
b), the music sounded graver, deeper than still before. Then a further
improvisatory passage led us southward, to Telemann in Italianate divertimento vein,
here losing one of the violins. The ‘Introduzione’ seemed also to suggest a
more Classical, or at least galant,
voice, arguably bringing Bach’s distinctive qualities into greater relief (at
least in retrospect). Each of the short movements was well characterised,
without exaggeration. The ‘Largo’ was graceful, that grace founded on a
delightful change of colour (gamba pizzicato): not unlike a brief number from
an opera or ballet. The closing ‘Accelerando Allegro’ did what it suggested in
equally delightful fashion. Even to this relative Telemann-sceptic, here were
music and music-making that did not outstay their welcome.
Following an interval stroll
among the visual Old Masters, we were well fortified for the ‘Stile francese’
from the Art of Fugue, its beating
heart as German as ever, whatever the stylistic casing. We heard and felt both.
If only the G major sonata for gamba and harpsichord, BWV 1027, had proceeded
with such distinction. Heumann offered considerable grace, but Börner’s playing
tended towards the unrelenting, even in the second movement, the sewing machine.
The ‘Andante’ that followed sounded so effortful as often to lose its sense,
although the finale offered a degree of vigour. Balance, moreover, proved a
considerable problem, at least where I was seated, harpsichord often cruelly obscuring
the gamba line. Even the ensuing Contrapunctus IX was hard-driven and scratchy,
although the notes, for the most part, shone through.
Another of the by now
all-too-predictable improvisations took us to the Trio Sonata for organ, BWV
527, here played by two violins and continuo. It can be done – but at least on
this evidence, I should much rather hear it on the organ. At any rate, greater
space to breathe would have been welcome, especially in the first movement.
Desch’s playing on second violin proved more often than not the most pleasing,
richer toned than that of her companions. Alas, Börner on harpsichord proved
all too prosaic throughout. At least he was silent for Contrapunctus XI, which
emerged, not coincidentally, with greater intimacy and gravity. Bach’s darkly
expressive chromaticism worked its wonders in a performance of chiaroscuro that
seemed at least to aspire to match the painterly examples surrounding it. A fugal
gigue by Johann Gottlieb Goldberg made for a fine surprise as encore: as focused
and as evidently relished as Telemann’s ‘Venerdi’. If Bach’s fortunes proved
mixed in performance, he will always remain with us. This was a concert perhaps
especially noteworthy for the opportunity it afforded to hear music from some
of his contemporaries.
