Pierre Boulez Saal
Orchestral Suite no.2 in B
minor, BWV 1067
Piano Concerto no.3 in D major,
BWV 1054
Orchestral Suite no.3 in D
major, BWV 1068
Piano Concerto no.1 in D minor,
BWV 1052
Claudia Stein (flute)
Staatskapelle Berlin
András Schiff (piano, conductor)
Celebrating its 450th
anniversary next year, the Staatskapelle Berlin traces its proud history long
before Bach: be that its ‘own’, Carl Philipp Emanuel, his father, Johann
Sebastian—‘Gentlemen, old Bach is here!’—or indeed any family member whom we
know as a composer. It is a sad state of affairs to report that, on the similar
brink of another anniversary, the 70th of the great Bach year of
1950, in whose wake Theodor
Adorno wrote his coruscating denunciation of authenticist ideology, we still
live so much in its baleful shadow that a concert from this ancient orchestra
in which it performs only relatively ‘alte Musik’ should remain so remarkable a
thing. Whatever reservations I may have felt, then, concerning András Schiff’s
direction of this wonderful orchestra—a few, alongside many positive
observations—I remain grateful indeed for the experience, for the reminder that
it is still just about possible to hear Bach played by a modern orchestra
without compelling its players to sound like an end-of-pier band, or indeed
simply to hear Bach from a modern orchestra at all. To see Daniel Barenboim in
the Pierre Boulez Saal audience, moreover, was encouraging; dare we hope for
some more Bach from him, whether as pianist, conductor, or both?
For the B minor Orchestral
Suite, with Claudia Stein as the excellent flute soloist, Schiff, conducting
rather than direction from the keyboard, called on a very small string
orchestra (4.4.3.2.1) plus harpsichord (Schaghajegh Nosrati). The opening to the
Overture, like its counterpart in the D major Suite later on, sounded clipped
and inhibited. The main body of the movement came as a significant relief: not
only a sensible tempo, so rare nowadays in this music, but with no attempt to inflict
weird, egotistical mannerisms upon it. Rhythms were nicely sprung. Crucially, that
sense of line strangely lacking earlier on was present throughout. It was initially
not clear to me that Schiff’s hand-waving had much bearing on the excellent
playing, other than setting the parameters within which it would operate, but entries
were well pointed, so perhaps it did after all. The Rondeau and Sarabande proved graceful, without some effete, allegedly French idea of ‘grace’ becoming an end
in itself. Once again, the lack of breakneck, attention-seeking tempo was
greatly appreciated, also enabling the first Bourrée to come as a vigorous
contrast that yet did not neglect its fundamental musical worth. The second,
played only by soloists and with darker tone, offered a more relaxed foil. The martial
qualities of Polonaise rhythm were communicated, yet again without ‘style’
being taken for idea. Stein’s playing in particular highlighted rhythm in
revealing, generative fashion. A further solo foil, this time from flute and
continuo, proved idiomatically and emotionally refreshing in the Double. A
courtly Menuett led to a Badinerie that was swift without taking speed to
fashionable excess, Stein’s agile musicianship matched by a highly responsive
orchestra.
Moving to the relative major, a
slightly augmented string section (6.6.4.3.2) accompanied Schiff in the D major
Concerto, BWV 1054, directed—without harpsichord—from the piano. The first
movement’s opening was bright and clear. Just when I was longing for greater
variegation of piano tone, Schiff offered some, though I could not help but
wish we had heard a little more in that respect. Such is his way, however, as
his refusal to use the sustaining pedal; we should all be wary of claims that
there is only one way. Light piano ornamentation proved stylish and did not
obscure the fundamentals. An eminently musical account of the slow movement
permitted depth to come from the notes, as opposed to being some thing applied
to them. Command of the long line was here crucial—and unfailing. Some may well
have found Schiff’s tempo for the final movement too slow; it is, after all,
marked ‘Presto’. For me, his relatively unhurried approach had much to be said
for it, permitting the music to speak, with no fashionable sense of harrying
it.
The larger string band was retained
for the second half, joined of course by two oboes, three trumpets,
kettledrums, and harpsichord for the D major Orchestral Suite, not least in the
main body of the first movement. It was taken fast, but far from unreasonably
so: music and players could take it. What cultivated string-playing we heard,
trumpets in particular enhancing the sense of the festal. If my ears took a
minute or so to adjust to a more ‘period’ sound for the kettledrums, I soon
ditched my prejudice in the light of such intelligent, rhetorically and
harmonically expressive playing from Stephan Möller. Apparent determination to
wrest the ‘Air’ from ‘on the G string fame’ left it in a curious state: skated
over, with most uncharacteristic vibrato-lite playing. Nosrati’s continuo
playing, however, proved a delight. Following a pair of Gavottes that were
lively and vigorous, if somewhat short-breathed, the Bourrée and Gigue sounded
a little too much as if translated from the keyboard, fine orchestral playing
notwithstanding.
The D minor Concerto, BWV 1052,
opened in forthright fashion, Schiff’s tempo choice spot on. (Not that there is
a ‘correct’ answer here, but rather that it should work within the context of
the performance—which it did.) There was energy enough, but also space. I may
have wished it to breathe more at times; again, however, it would be folly to
insist upon one’s own aesthetic being applied to everything, for on its own
terms, this worked well. A greater problem for me was a lack—at least on
certain occasions—of piano legato and a certain heavy-handedness which may have
led some to doubt the role of a Steinway in this music. The slow movement,
similarly to the Suite’s Air, seemed haunted by a fear of ‘romanticising’; what
we heard instead sounded oddly unengaged, Schiff’s piano tone often
unforgiving. The finale, however, came off much better: tempo, clarity, and dynamism
all just right. Most important of all, it possessed a sense of grandeur such as
Bach demands and yet all too rarely receives. Old Bach, it felt, was truly here: not in Potsdam, still less in Leipzig, but in Berlin.
