Bach: Cello Suites (complete).
Richard Narroway, cello. Sono Luminus. $16.99 (2 CDs).
Bach: Cello Suite No. 2; Violin
Sonata No. 3; Chaconne from Violin Partita No. 2; Andante from Violin Sonata
No. 2. Tanya Gabrielian, piano. MSR Classics. $12.95.
Debussy: Images—Book I; Préludes—Book
II; Rameau: Castor et Pollux—Tristes Apprêts; Nouvelles Suites
de Pièces de Clavecin—Gavotte et six doubles. Jeffrey LaDeur,
piano. MSR Classics. $12.95.
Every generation brings its
own thinking to the music of Bach and others of Bach’s time, with the result
that music created 300 years or more in the past retains freshness and is
constantly being reinterpreted to fit new circumstances, new scholarship, and
new personal preferences. It is the “personal preferences” aspect that
dominates these recent recordings, all of them exceptionally well-played and
all reflecting contemporary artists’ personal circumstances and proclivities as
well as their research into the music. In the case of Richard Narroway’s
reading of Bach’s Cello Suites, there
is a delicate balancing act (for listeners who like the approach) or a
neither-here-nor-there quality (for those who remain unconvinced). It is
difficult nowadays to escape studies of historically correct performance
practices and of the sound world within which Baroque and other pre-modern
music was created; and Narroway is quite clearly aware of when and how Bach
wrote and how these suites were intended to sound. Indeed, he appears to see
the suites as a progression from comparative simplicity through ever-increasing
complexity, leading eventually to the sixth suite’s call for a five-string
cello. Narroway’s tempos are carefully chosen, his reduced use of vibrato is
admirable, his handling of ornamentation is intelligent and aware, and his
overall interpretation of the suites’ movement sequences is carefully managed
and creates a satisfying arc for each of the works. However, Narroway
consciously chooses to perform the suites with a modern instrument, modern bow,
and higher and brighter tuning than used in Bach’s time – that is, “no” to gut
strings and “yes” to a cello manufactured with an endpin. Does this confluence
of authentic and inauthentic elements matter? That is as personal a question
for listeners as the entire interpretation is personal for Narroway. Anyone
familiar with the suites – that is, used to hearing rather than playing them –
will likely find the combination here a bit odd or strained: the care and
attentiveness to authentic technique is an uneasy match for an instrument
designed and built centuries later and for different purposes. Yet there is
something refreshing in hearing a performer who uses a modern instrument (as,
for example, every pianist does when performing Bach’s harpsichord works) but
does so with so much sensitivity to the nuances of the time when this music was
created. Narroway’s reading of these suites on Sono Luminus is unlikely to be a
first-choice recording: listeners will do better to pick a fully modern
interpretation or a fully historical one, depending on their own feelings about
the music. But the grandeur of this music makes it common for people to own
multiple recordings, and Narroway’s is certainly intriguing enough to become a
thought-provoking supplement to whatever an individual’s primary preference may
be.
One of the cello suites, in
a transcription by Leopold Godowsky, also makes an appearance on a new MSR
Classics release featuring pianist Tanya Gabrielian. This is an even more personal
CD than Narroway’s, resulting from what Gabrielian describes as an epiphany of
sorts that brought her wholeheartedly to a musical career through listening to
Bach’s works for unaccompanied cello and violin during her recuperation from an
injury. The “giving back” element of these performances shines through, and the
chance to hear some rather unfamiliar versions of some very familiar music is
quite welcome. Gabrielian brings considerable passion to Cello Suite No. 2, and
indeed the whole program here is one of dedication that borders on devotion.
But for that very reason, the performances will not be to all tastes. Unlike
Narroway’s attempt to incorporate Baroque stylistic practices into a
performance on a modern instrument, Gabrielian takes an old-school approach of
using the emotional scope of the piano to highlight and expand the feelings
generated by Bach’s notes on their own. Thus, although there is not a great
deal of rubato, there is considerable
use of pedal and much expressive warmth in the playing. These are by-and-large
Romantic readings – not only of the cello suite but also of Violin Sonata No. 3
(one movement transcribed by Bach himself, although not for a modern piano; two
by Saint-Saëns; and one by
Arturo Cardelús). The virtuosic elements intended for cellists and violinists
recede into the background when these pieces are played on piano, and the
music’s overall feeling comes across quite differently, especially when it is
given the degree of emotional intensity that Gabrielian provides. The same is
true for two solo-violin movements transcribed by Alexander Siloti (the same
musician who insisted on cuts in Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 2): the
Chaconne from the second partita and Andante from the second sonata function
here as filler items, respectively opening the disc and separating the violin
sonata from the cello suite. Gabrielian treats both the pieces with care,
involvement and considerable feeling. From the perspective of performance, this
is a lovely disc, played feelingly and heartfelt from start to finish. As
meaningful as it clearly is to Gabrielian, however, it is not especially
insightful in terms of the music she plays.
The connection of the
Baroque world to the contemporary one is even more direct, yet more abstruse,
in a new MSR Classics CD on which pianist Jeffrey LaDeur plays music of Ravel
and Debussy. To most listeners, this pairing is at least unusual and at most rather
odd; many would assume that LaDeur has a personal reason for offering the music
of such different and long-separated-in-time composers on the same disc. And so
he does, but the reason is more than
personal. LaDeur explains that his teacher, Annie Marchand Sherter, did a close
analysis of certain Debussy works and discovered that they intimately reflect
certain pieces by Rameau, in very definite and indeed unarguable ways. LaDeur
is using this recording to demonstrate Sherter’s discovery pianistically. And
he certainly has a way with Debussy, performing Images—Book I and Préludes—Book
II with limpid, elegant technique, finely controlled and nuanced hand
balance, a firm grasp of rhythm (and when to let it fluctuate), and an overall
assurance that is highly impressive. When it comes to the two Rameau pieces
included on the CD, however, matters are less salient. Like Bach, Rameau did
not write for the then-nonexistent modern piano, and Rameau’s music lies even
more uneasily on piano than does Bach’s, if only because it has become
commonplace to hear Bach played this way. So the Rameau works here, although
prettily played, are less involving and less impressive than those by Debussy –
which, to be sure, take up the vast majority of the disc. Furthermore, the
underlying argument on the basis of which LaDeur created this recital is so
esoteric and, in truth, so difficult to hear in performance, that it is,
although accurate analytically, quite irrelevant to the effect of the music as
LaDeur plays it. In other words, LaDeur here presents an elegant demonstration
of the rightness of Sherter’s discovery and analysis of links between Rameau
and Debussy – indeed, the disc is called “The Unbroken Line” – but in terms of
what the vast majority of listeners will perceive, Sherter’s assertions and LaDeur’s
support of them will be inaudible, irrelevant, or both. Listeners who simply
want to hear a fine rendition of the specific Debussy pieces recorded here, and
are content with only one of the two books of Préludes and only one of the two sequences of Images, will enjoy this recording. In
terms of connections between Debussy and Rameau, though, most listeners will
likely find it quite sufficient to remember that the second of the Images performed here bears the title, Hommage à Rameau.
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