(++++) ALL FOR THE SOUND OF IT

Bach: The Well-Tempered Clavier, Books I and II. Wolfgang Rübsam, lute-harpsichord. Brilliant Classics. $19.99 (5 CDs).

Bach: Clavier-Übung III. Marko Petričić, organ and bayan. MSR Classics. $19.95 (2 CDs).

     Although no lute-harpsichords of Bach’s time have survived until ours, the composer’s fondness for the instrument has: he owned two of them, and was known to favor their sonic warmth and the emotional communication made possible by their use of gut strings rather than the steel ones of other harpsichords. A few modern instrument makers have created lute-harpsichords, and the chance to hear Bach performed on one is very welcome indeed, especially when the instrument has the lovely aural quality of the Robert Hill-built one used by Wolfgang Rübsam in his recording of the entire Well-Tempered Clavier on Brilliant Classics. The monumentality of The Well-Tempered Clavier means that few performers essay the entire thing, and the vast majority of recordings pick and choose among its 48 preludes and fugues to give a sense of the whole. Not so Rübsam, who in 2016 and 2017 recorded the entire more-than-six-hour Well-Tempered Clavier. His entire reading is now available at an extremely attractive price. It is a true musical offering. Rübsam is a sensitive, knowledgeable performer who is well aware of historically informed practices and who, at the same time, is quite willing to bring his own emotive capabilities to this music. Listeners should remember that “well-tempered” in this work does not mean “nicely tempered” or anything similar – it refers to a tuning method in which all keys sound in tune, a method therefore sometimes called “circular temperament.” Bach’s work is a highly effective advocacy piece, or set of pieces, in opposition to mean-tone tuning, in which thirds are closer to pure but keys with many accidentals sound out of tune. It is fascinating to think that Bach’s enormous preludes-and-fugues exploration is essentially an argument for using one type of musical presentation rather than another. It is also irrelevant to enjoyment of the music – or, indeed, to marveling at it. Book I (1722) and Book II (1739-1742) include, between them, just about every style of which Bach was aware; and the contrast between the very freewheeling preludes and much more rigid fugues is apparent throughout. The preludes often have irregular numbers of measures, in contrast to the regularity of the fugues (which are mostly three-voice or four-voice works). However, the fugues are in their own way as wide-ranging as the preludes, using as many contrapuntal elements as Bach could pack into them. And three fugues are in neither three voices nor four: the E minor in Book I is a two-voice fugue, while the C-sharp minor and B-flat minor in Book I have five voices. The Well-Tempered Clavier is so extensive and so musically rich that it can be and perhaps should be the cornerstone – certainly one cornerstone – of the music library of every lover of classical music. And in that role, the Rübsam recording is very much a worthy choice. The comparative delicacy of the lute-harpsichord – in contrast to the potentially more-brittle sound of the steel-strung harpsichord – produces a sense of intimacy, and frequently one of calm, as the music progresses through keys with increasing numbers of accidentals and develops through fugues of quite remarkable complexity. Rübsam is a thoughtful performer who does a particularly fine job of contrasting the comparatively free-ranging nature of the preludes with the much more studied form of the fugues. The lute-harpsichord, in its turn, softens the fugal regularity and makes it more pleasant to the ear and much easier to hear for extended periods. It is easy to see from this recording – or rather to hear from it – why Bach was fond of the lute-harpsichord. Rübsam’s version of The Well-Tempered Clavier can easily be a listener’s first choice for this music – and just as easily be an excellent complement to any more-usual and equally authentic performances on the steel-strung harpsichord. The music shines forth either way: its polish in Rübsam’s rendition is more bronze than brass, but every bit as burnished as the finest steel-string harpsichord alternatives.

     Bach’s music has often been described as so “pure” that it can be played on any instrument – and, indeed, it has been offered on many of which Bach never knew (the modern grand piano being one obvious example). It is a fair bet, though, that Bach’s hour-and-a-half-long, highly complex German Organ Mass, formally known as Clavier-Übung III, has not often (if ever) been heard on the bayan accordion. The instrument itself is not particularly well-known: although it is a button accordion, it uses broad rectangular reeds rather than trapezoidal ones, and its construction differs in multiple ways from that of better-known accordions. Organist Marko Petričić had the innovative if somewhat quixotic idea of performing Clavier-Übung III in part on organ and in part on bayan, and the result is a fascinatingly weird MSR Classics release that will not be anyone’s first choice for this sublime music but that does shed some interesting light on elements of Bach’s work. There are 27 pieces in Bach’s Clavier-Übung III, with Petričić playing 12 of them on organ and the other 15 on bayan. The numerical difference is largely explainable by Petričić’s decision to perform all four Duetto works on the bayan. On the other hand, the three longest pieces – Praeludium, the first Vater unser im Himmelreich, and the concluding Fuga – are all played on the organ, so the totality of the music is fairly evenly balanced. That may or may not matter to listeners, who will most likely find this release a genuine curiosity, certainly intriguing but often simply strange. Its most-interesting elements are those in which juxtaposed elements are contrasted through performance on the two different instruments. Thus, Allein Gott in der Hoh’ sei Ehr’ is heard on bayan and then, in its longer form, on organ, while the two almost-equal-length versions of Aus tiefer Not schrei' ich zu dir are heard on organ, then on bayan. The bayan, which originated in Russia in the early 20^th century, has a much fuller bass sound than Western accordions, and its tone is quite pure, with its reeds not tuned with tremolo. This makes it a much more interesting instrument to contrast with the organ than a Western accordion would be. And certainly it can be argued that both the organ and the bayan, although actuated by keyboards, are essentially wind instruments, and thus have something significant in common. Nevertheless, Petričić’s use of bayan never stops being odd – although it might become less so for at least some listeners after multiple hearings of this release. The bayan version of Kyrie, Gott Vater in Ewigkeit, for example, plays well into the bayan version of the following Christe, aller Welt Trost. But the later Fughetta super: Allein Gott in der Hoh’ sei Ehr’ simply sounds strange, almost alien, on bayan. Part of the reason for the peculiarity of the bayan elements is that, in the elements played on organ, Petričić performs tastefully, with care and suitable reverence: Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’, for example, is highly moving. Then the bayan material, including the very next piece – Fughetta super: Dies sind die heil’gen zehn Gebot’ – almost seems to trivialize what has come before. As an experiment in contrasting and occasionally complementary sonorities, Petričić’s performance is thoroughly engaging and involving. For listeners who are already highly familiar with Clavier-Übung III, it may even be salutary as a sort of “ear cleanser.” But for listeners in general, this (+++) two-CD release never progresses beyond the strange.