BOOKS

Monograph of the Antonio Stradivari Cello c.1690 ‘Barjansky’ Ed. Jost Thöne

392PP ISBN 9783000662034 JOST THÖNE VERLAG €890 (LIBRARY) €1,690 (DELUXE)

One is seldom treated to a book that caters to the needs of both the amateur enthusiast and the most experienced collector. It could certainly be argued that Jost Thöne’s latest publication does just that. He has laid out in detail the history of this instrument (named after Russian cellist Serge Barjansky) and its restorations up to recent owners such as Julian Lloyd Webber. By no means just a pretty picture book, from start to finish it contains highly valuable original research contributions from an array of makers, researchers, restorers and experts in the fields surrounding lutherie. Of particular value are the detailed illustrations and side-by-side explanations on such matters as the spectral analysis of the varnish, age of the wood, and CT-scanned views of the instrument: all relatively recent innovations. In particular, the inclusion of these scans is what sets this book apart from previous literature, treating readers to a non-invasive look inside the cello.

While certain theories and terminologies may be a challenge for the novice to grasp, the book is still something of a trendsetter as a monograph devoted to bringing all the available scientific methods of analysis to a wider audience. Much literature of this type tends to be either too academic or simplistic, often glossing over important historical aspects. Here we have a research piece that is both concise and meticulous, and there is also a website of accompanying content with developing features.

The book’s physical weight certainly does not translate into a heavy read. On the contrary, its size enhances impact of the spectacular photos, including those taken with a bellows camera. Also included are life-size rolled posters of the cello, featuring photos, patterns and CT scans. This outstanding imagery very much enhances the reader’s ability to visualise the techniques and tools that restorers and experts commonly use to analyse an instrument. My only personal wish would be to see more photos to explain the milling method in the contribution about patch production; this would also very much simplify the explanation of the process for amateur enthusiasts.

In this pioneering book Thöne has spoilt us with contributions from the greatest specialists and technical minds in their respective fields. The result is a unique collaborative publication, which beautifully illustrates the historical journey of this cello from its inception up to the present day. If you buy it, certainly read until the end: there’s a surprising amount of detail, and you will gain a rare and special glimpse into the world of restoration.

FLORIAN LEONHARD

CT scan of the ‘Barjansky’ interior

The Complete Special Edition of Bach’s Fugues for Solo Violin: Vol.1 (Fugue in C major BWV1005 ‘Pentecoste’) and Vol.2 (Fugue in G minor BWV1001 ‘Christmas’) Eds. Márta Ábrahám, Barnabás Dukay

VOL.1: 22PP ISMN 9790801675514 €24 VOL.2: 40PP ISMN 9790801675859 €24 BIOBACH MUSIC

Franz Liszt Academy violin professor Márta Ábrahám and composer Barnabás Dukay’s editions do not venture quite into ‘the sphere of exotic beliefs’ encountered by Tully Potter in their examination of Bach’s Ciaccona (from BWV1004; see the March 2019 issue), but they do link the fugues spiritually to major Christian feasts with subtitles that have no origin with Bach. Further, in addition to Bach’s well-documented exploitation of numerology (vol.1) and the ‘golden ratio’ (vol.2), the editorial introductions (in English and Hungarian) comment on a wide range of symbolism inherent in his works and draw some conclusions that will be roundly disputed.

Granted, the C major Fugue’s theme is based on the chorale ‘Komm, Gott Schöpfer, Heiliger Geist’, which itself originates from the Pentecostal Gregorian hymn ‘Veni Creator Spiritus’, but there is no similar derivation for the G minor Fugue to ‘suggest a connection’ with Christmas, nor is the fact that Corelli’s ‘Christmas Concerto’ shares the same key a valid justification.

The subtitle of this three-volume series (Vol.3 was released before The Strad went to press) is ‘From chaos to order’, referring to its organisation of Bach’s complex, single-stave polyphony via a discrete visual approach. Rather than using traditional analytical terminology, the editors consider fugue as ‘a dual system’ comprising a ‘Thematic Area’ and ‘Interlude Area’ (which may be ‘thematic’ or ‘divertimento-type’). Their use of coloured notation (seven different colours in BWV1001) to pinpoint the individual voices of the fugues demonstrates clearly both the hierarchical arrangement of Bach’s part writing and the overall architectural detail. Their analysis, though idiosyncratic, seems sound enough, dissecting the fugues for a clearer understanding of the often dense polyphony (particularly in passages of stretto), so that violinists may reconstruct them coherently and convincingly in their performances.

The editors and publishers have clearly given careful consideration to matters of presentation, often with practicalities of performance in mind. The score for BWV1005 (A4 portrait), for example, is laid out in four threepage spreads in accordance with the seven sections of the editors’ analysis; but the reason for the adoption of a conventionally paginated A4 landscape format for BWV1001 is not clearly evident. Further, Vol.2’s list of ‘Thematic’ and ‘Interlude’ themes, included as an appendix inserted in a pocket on the inside of the back cover, seems superfluous.

Nevertheless, the printed musical texts undoubtedly offer a clear visual representation of the structural framework and inner detail of each fugue, admirably demonstrating their coherence and facilitating prospective performers’ appreciation and comprehension of Bach’s compositional processes.

ROBIN STOWELL

Lev’s Violin: An Italian Adventure Helena Attlee

224PP ISBN 9780241402559 PARTICULAR BOOKS £20

This book uses the history of one violin to explore what objects mean to us, how they change us and what we invest in them. It begins with the author attending a klezmer concert and becoming captivated by the sound of the violin. Afterwards the player shows her his instrument, telling her, ‘It was actually made in Cremona, but when I took it to be valued I was told that it’s absolutely worthless.’ Its previous owner, Lev, had bought it in his native Russia.

The contradiction between the expressiveness of the violin’s voice, its Cremonese origins and its alleged worthlessness lodges deep in the author’s mind, sending her on a voyage of discovery as she imagines a possible history for Lev’s violin.

The author is offered work in Milan, so takes the opportunity to visit Cremona and the Dolomites, and writes engagingly about how the resonance wood used for the fronts of instruments would have been selected, harvested and brought to Cremona. She includes an alarming description of men suspended from ropes over the river, dislodging particularly stubborn logjams. Later she bumps into the violin’s owner again, when he tells her the violin was made for the Church as a kind of unacknowledged child of a recognised workshop. It remained unlabelled as a tax dodge, benefiting maker and buyer alike. This sends her off on another track, finding out about the music and musicians of the 18th-century Italian Church, then considering where the violin would have been played later in its life, the craze for opera spreading musicians and their instruments far and wide.

Did the violin travel east in the hands of popular players? She meets Roma musicians and then delves into the dark tangle of Nazi-looted instruments and how some of this stolen property was in turn taken by the Red Army and brought to Russia.

The author spends a week at the Cremona Violin Making School, sounding slightly surprised at the dedication and attentiveness of its students. A chapter headed ‘Violin A and E’ is not about strings but is a charming and witty portrait of a provincial violin auction and the characters who buy these wrecked violins to bring them back to life. The book ends with a dramatic and definitive attribution for the violin.

Attlee writes with gentle humour, her graceful style delivering some wonderful descriptions. Most violin makers will know much of the information in the first part of the book at least as well as the author, who makes a number of small but annoying errors. I wondered how anyone could believe the church violins story when expertise in everything, not just violins, is now so sophisticated. Players might also value this basic introduction to the world of luthiers and dealers past and present, and the kaleidoscopic view of the violin through time and place.

HELEN MICHETSCHLÄGER