AT HEART A FUGUE

Three centuries ago, Bach had completed his set of six Sonatas and Partitas for solo violin. In the first of two articles, Lewis Kaplan, senior member of the Juilliard School faculty, discusses interpretation of the three sonatas with reference to Bach’s autograph score

From the late 19th century and through most of the 20th, the interpretation of Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas seems to have been premised on the fact that Bach was a great composer and therefore the playing had to be impressive, heavy, dominating and ultra-serious, with an emphasis on big sound and melody. Of course it was up to us, the performers, to make Bach great, yet consideration of harmony and rhythm was almost non-existent, despite the fact that the composer’s biographers over two centuries had spoken with insight and emphasis about Bach’s harmonic genius. Something that had a powerful impact on me personally was reading that Beethoven, in a letter to one of his publishers, described Bach as the ‘father of harmony’.

This century-long concept of Bach performance began to change with the awakening of the enlightened concept of playing in Baroque style, mostly on so-called original instruments. The major changes were in sound and articulation – harmony, as always, depended on the imagination and ear of the individual. But the fact that instruments were tuned to a frequency of 415Hz did not by any means assure a profound interpretation.

With each of the three sonatas, I believe that Bach began with the fugue and built the outer movements around it. Each fugue has a clear character: playfulness in no.1 in G minor BWV1001; humour in no.2 in A minor BWV1003; and a religious quality in no.3 in C major BWV1005.

The breadth of what Bach does with each four-movement sonata is enormous. The opening movements are introductions to the fugues. These are followed by the fugue itself, which, of course, develops an idea or subject. The character of each fugue is prepared by the preceding slow movement, so the two are obviously linked. The third movements have remarkable individuality – BWV1001’s Siciliana being a conversation between three voices, the Andante of BWV1003 an aria with a heartbeat ostinato, and the Largo of BWV1005 an aria of touching simplicity with barely any accompaniment. The final movements are celebrations with virtuosic displays. Bach himself was a virtuoso composer and organist, and given the age in which he lived, he probably would have been considered a virtuoso string player as well. However, the virtuosic aspect never dominates in his music. Technique is always used to demonstrate an emotion, an idea or a character; the music is never just a showy display.

Title page of Bach’s 1720 Sonatas and Partitas manuscript

Using a facsimile of Bach’s own score, dated 1720 and currently housed in the Berlin State Museum, I now turn to the individual sonatas to explore what makes them some of the greatest works written for the solo violin (or likely among the greatest works written for any instrument). The First Sonata’s G minor Fugue is the only one of the three fugues where Bach wrote a tempo indication: Allegro. And he wrote it with an alla breve time signature (example 1). This would seem to mean that Bach wanted a fairly brisk tempo and probably a certain lightness. The opening theme, or more accurately the subject, begins with a gesture – four repeated notes, starting on the off-beat. Bach later abbreviates this pattern from four notes to three, beginning on the beat (bar 11), and eventually expands it to be played as four-note chords (bars 58 and 59). I personally think he was having a jolly good time with it. He follows the four-note gesture of the subject with what I call a three-note quip, which he later isolates, having two voices chide each other with it in every possible manner. He concludes the subject with a two-note resolution, the second note falling on the first beat of bar 2. This resolution offers many harmonic possibilities of which Bach takes full advantage throughout the movement. The primary countersubject, introduced in the alto voice in bar 3, is a four-note descending scale. It is the interplay between the subject and the countersubject that provides complexity, making what initially appears to be a rather simple, straightforward work into something quite challenging. It is here that the performer, with varying degrees of emphasis on the subject and the countersubject, as well as the harmony created by the simultaneity of the two, can express their interpretation of the work.

EXAMPLE 1 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Fugue, bars 1–22. The movement begins with an alla breve time signature

EXAMPLE 2 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Fugue, bars 33–45. Halfway through bar 35 Bach begins to develop a three-note quip

J.S. Bach: the ‘father of harmony’, according to Beethoven

In the middle of bar 35 (example 2), Bach begins to develop the three-note quip. He does it primarily with two voices in the original form, inverts it and adds a pedal. Clearly, the player cannot sustain the pedal-point minims (h) in bar 36 (D”) and bar 37 (E’/G” in the first half of the bar; A’/C#” in the second half ); instead, they are usually played as arpeggiated chords on each quaver (e) beat. There are many examples of Bach writing notes that cannot be sustained through their written value; his ideas are in a sense too big for the violin, and he clearly could not be constrained. In bar 37, I believe the pedals beginning on beats one and three should be played just on those beats, with the inference that they are sustained. In the second half of bar 36, however, arpeggiated chords are necessary (example 3).

EXAMPLE 3 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Fugue. Lewis Kaplan’s interpretation for how pedals and chords should be played from midway through bar 35 to midway through bar 38

KAPLAN PHOTO BRIAN KAPLAN

The opening Adagio of the First Sonata is to some extent driven by melody, but I think it is more chord progression with ornamentation. How one conceives of this makes an enormous difference to the interpretation. The fundamental premise is that the time signature is in four, not eight. Did I have a conversation with Bach and get the definitive word on this? Well, not really, but the harmony makes sense when interpreted in four, so we can all converse with Bach through his harmonic movement. The Adagio also provides us with a lesson in ornamentation by the master himself (can you imagine sitting in a room in Leipzig with Bach saying, ‘I want to talk to you about ornamentation?’). The material starting in bar 13 is a return to the opening, but it is now in C minor (example 4). The harmonic sequence is nearly the same, but he gives us another version of the ornamentation, an important lesson not to be overlooked. This is followed by a coda starting in bar 20 – which is perhaps a cadenza, to be played freely with bravura, ending with a final cadence in G minor.

EXAMPLE 4 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Adagio, bars 12–23. At bar 14 the opening material returns, now in C minor

NOT SATISFIED MERELY TO WRITE A SLOW MOVEMENT IN DA NCE MODE, BACH WRITES A CONVERSATION BETWEEN TWO FEMALE VOICES SPEAKING IN TANDEM AND A MALE VOICE

The Siciliana is, of course, a dance – slow, with a lilting rhythm (example 5). It is one of innumerable examples of Bach’s inventive mind. Not satisfied merely to write a slow movement in dance mode, Bach writes a conversation between two female voices speaking in tandem and a male voice. Who are these people? Are they in their twenties, in their forties, or elderly? Are they kindly? That is your decision, dear performer, and I hope you will make one!

So, Bach has now written an adagio, a bright fugue, and a lovely discussion. How does he choose to end the work? I have not mentioned that Bach is a dramatist, and a great one, so he opts to close with a flourish, a brilliant technical display: it is a presto with one beat to the bar in two-bar groupings (Bach wrote a half bar-line on alternate bars; example 6). Every note is a semiquaver (s) and it is thrilling. Kreutzer, among thousands of others, wrote exercises in semiquavers which are musically awful. So it would be fair to ask, ‘What did Bach do that Kreutzer and others did not?’ The answer is that he used rhythmic and melodic patterns, some one bar in length, some two bars, some with accented rhythms (for example in bar 38), all perfectly juxtaposed with his imaginative use of harmony.

If the player does not in some way convey these characteristics, this music will sound more like Kreutzer than Bach.

Lewis Kaplan

Moving on to the Second Sonata in A minor, one sees similarities to the G minor, but given Bach’s inventiveness, one is sure to find that many new ideas are introduced. As I mentioned before, I believe Bach started with his fugues. This one again begins on the off-beat, but this time there is a downward octave leap followed by an upward leap of a 4th then an ornamented three-note ascending scale (into the first beat of bar 3 – example 7, page 34). Influenced by Bach’s extraordinary musical dimensions, his humanity, his pathos and his humour, I feel that he is being witty here, with his off-beat start and his leaps of the subject, and he goes on to be even more so in places (such as bars 65–8) where the voices mock each other. Again, he uses a four-note descending scale as his countersubject (bars 5 and 6 in the bass), but this time it is chromatic. He uses it extensively throughout the fugue – for example in bars 18–28, where he juxtaposes it against the subject (minus the leaps) five times, initially in the soprano and then trading places with the subject and going to the bass.

EXAMPLE 5 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Siciliana, bars 1–16. The movement is a dance – slow, with a lilting rhythm

EXAMPLE 6 Bach Sonata no.1 in G minor BWV1001, Presto, bars 1–31. The movement is written one beat to the bar in two-bar groupings

Leading into the fugue is the Grave, and again the harmony is in four, not eight. I think of it as a bit broader than the G minor, and a bit more sombre. Perhaps Bach was looking for a greater sense of drama since the scale of this sonata is grander.

The third-movement Andante (example 8, page 34) is a miracle of imagination and composition, with two voices that are direct opposites of each other. The bass is an ostinato, relentless, perhaps a heartbeat or a clock signifying time and with it possibly even death. The soprano is an aria, maybe a church aria, one that sings timelessly of hope and rejuvenation. Who else but Bach could juxtapose two such disparate ideas?

Bach, our dramatist, closes with a celebratory Allegro scored alla breve. Here is a chance to dazzle, with joy and virtuosity.

The Third Sonata is the grandest of all, and it’s in C major. It is curious to note that the two generally ‘happy’ sonatas are in minor keys and the more serious one is in the major. Bach undoubtedly began with the fugue (example 9), whose subject is taken from the chorale Komm, Heiliger Geist, Herre Gott, a hymn several hundred years old with words by Martin Luther (of course, Bach himself was a devout Lutheran).

EXAMPLE 7 Bach Sonata no.2 in A minor BWV1003, Fugue, bars 1–45. The movement begins on the off-beat, followed by a downward octave leap

EXAMPLE 8 Bach Sonata no.2 in A minor BWV1003, Andante. The movement features two voices that are direct opposites of each other

EXAMPLE 9 Bach Sonata no.3 in C major BWV1005, Fugue, bars 1–44. The subject is taken from the chorale Komm, Heiliger Geist, Herre Gott

This, too, is indicated alla breve and I have no hesitancy in advocating that the sound be hymn-related, namely legato, whether bowed a half-bar to the bow or in individual strokes. There is ample evidence in Bach’s music that he was a numerologist – that he believed in the power and meaning of numbers: for example, he used the sum of the numbers derived from his name, 14 (B=2, A=1, C=3 and H or B flat in German = 8), in his Chaconne – but more of that when I discuss the partitas next month. The subject of BWV1005 falls into groups of three notes beginning on the down-beat of the first full bar, which for me points to the Trinity; the countersubject begins with six descending chromatic notes (bass part, bars 4–7). This leaves a lot of latitude for interpretation, but I think as long as it has the feeling of being hymnrelated it has validity.

This fugue is in four voices: an opening tenor which is imitated by the alto (bar 4), soprano (bar 10), and another alto (bar 16). This is pretty impressive considering the limited range of the violin. Each of the voices is joined by the countersubject, first in the bass, then in the alto and lastly in the soprano. Throughout the entire work, Bach develops the first three-note figure from bar 1 (one long note and two short ones). He inverts it, using it in every possible way, and it’s all so logical, never calling attention to itself. In fact, quite the opposite.

What Bach does is often so subtle it can be difficult to find. Much of the greatness in this fugue lies in the juxtaposition between the religious and the virtuosic, the chromaticism, going from major to minor with the same root on successive chords, and the struggle to maintain four voices on what is meant to be a lyrical soprano stringed instrument.

I wonder what Bach would do with today’s technology – something new?

Or would he steadfastly say that counterpoint is the ultimate expression in music?

I believe that Bach first composed the fugue – maybe wrote it out, maybe not – and then asked himself: ‘What is the appropriate introduction to a fugue based on the Trinity?’ A solemn march? BWV1005’s opening Adagio (example 10) reminds me of the start of Bach’s BWV140 cantata Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, where the narrator announces that Christ the bridegroom is approaching. Bach uses the same rhythmic figure here: a dotted quaver followed by a semiquaver which must be played with dignity, inspiring awe and somehow evoking the vision of Christ. Bach breaks off this ostinato in bar 5 and introduces equal quavers, the perfect foil to break the hypnotic spell.

He also later rejuvenates things with cadenzas that are probably meant to be played freely as a contrast to the constant dotted gesture (bars 12 and 39–42). He cadences in C at bar 45, which would appear to be final. Instead, though, he constructs a three-bar bridge to the dominant, leading to the entrance of his great C major Fugue.

The third movement, Largo, is a simple aria with hardly any accompaniment – just an occasional touch to a lower string. This is one of many examples not only of Bach being one of the greatest contrapuntists ever, but also of his ability to write an instrumental tune that was second to none.

Bach again concludes on a virtuoso note in the Allegro assai (example 11). Here I believe that the word ‘assai’ is referring more to the literal translation of allegro as ‘cheerful’ rather than to the musical meaning, ‘fast’. And cheerful it is! The first four notes hurl to the quaver, then playfully four notes drop to the down-beat. Adding to the fun in bar 3, he introduces us to a three-voice figure – bass, alto and soprano bantering, rollicking, enjoying each other’s company. As mentioned above, be wary: without motion, direction and harmony Bach will sound like Kreutzer – dry, laborious, dull and trying.

And so we come to the end of our all too brief sojourn in the world of Bach’s sonatas for solo violin. Next month we visit the partitas –a very different journey.

EXAMPLE 10 Bach Sonata no.3 in C major BWV1005, Adagio, bars 1–34. The rhythmic figure of a dotted quaver followed by a semiquaver must be played with dignity

WITHOUT MOTION, DIR ECTION AND HARMONY BACH WILL SOUND LIKE KREUTZER – DRY, L ABORIOUS, DULL AND TRYING