• NYT: Is Bach Better on Harp?

    From Frank Forman@21:1/5 to All on Fri Aug 21 23:35:38 2020
    XPost: rec.music.classical.recordings

    This message is in MIME format. The first part should be readable text,
    while the remaining parts are likely unreadable without MIME-aware tools.

    NYT: Is Bach Better on Harp? https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/14/arts/music/bach-goldberg-variations-harp.html

    By Parker Ramsay

    I suppose I have some explaining to do to my perplexed fellow
    musicians, as well as to Glenn Gould devotees. Why? I decided to
    transcribe Bach's "Goldberg" Variations--for harp.

    I'm the first to admit that my project--a recording comes out
    Sept. 18 on the record label of King's College, Cambridge--can
    sound outré or precious. But I come by it honestly: My musical path
    has been a tad unorthodox. The child of a harpist and a trombonist,
    I was home-schooled in rural Tennessee to allow for a weekly
    rotation of lessons on harpsichord, organ and piano, intermingled
    with youth orchestra and choir practice (and my mother yelling at me
    from the kitchen about my harp technique).

    At 16, I headed to a small British boarding school before studying
    history at King's College while serving as organ scholar there. I
    then returned to the United States to spend two years learning
    historical performance at Oberlin and then two with the modern harp
    at Juilliard.

    That's a lot of different repertories, but the "Goldberg" Variations
    were one strand of continuity. That continuity also brought some
    persistent dissatisfaction. When it came to Bach, I was unhappy
    about the piano's awkwardness with hand crossings, the harpsichord's
    lack of dynamic vitality and the tootiness of organ pipes.

    I kept struggling with what my ideal "Goldbergs" might sound like. I
    wanted the raw pluckiness of the harpsichord, but with the
    expressive qualities of the piano. About five years ago, I came to
    realize that the way to hear this work--and most of Bach, for that
    matter--as I wanted would be to use my first instrument, the
    modern pedal harp.

    Thinking that a piece known almost exclusively on keyboard could be
    transmuted to harp isn't so fanciful: Bach himself appears to have
    often been agnostic on matters of instrumentation. Like many
    composers of his time, he was constantly borrowing and rearranging
    his own compositions. The Double Violin Concerto, composed around
    1719, turns up some 20 years later as a concerto for two
    harpsichords. The Preludio from the Third Violin Partita, written in
    1720, reappears in 1731 as a Sinfonia to Cantata 29, rescored for
    organ obbligato and orchestra. And the Siciliano from the second
    sonata for viola da gamba is better known as "Erbarme dich," from
    the "St. Matthew Passion."

    In the 18th century, transcription and arrangement were a means of
    preservation and dissemination. Bach himself produced solo organ and harpsichord transcriptions of violin and oboe concertos by Vivaldi,
    Alessandro Marcello and Telemann. His cantata "Tilge, Höchster,
    meine Sünden" is a re-orchestration in full of Pergolesi's "Stabat
    Mater," using a Lutheran translation of Psalm 51 in place of the
    original Latin text. Fast forward to the end of the century, and we
    find transcriptions of fugues from Bach's "Well-Tempered Clavier" in
    Mozart's and Beethoven's hands, rescored for string ensembles.

    Outright ambiguity exists in some of Bach's best-known works. "The
    Art of Fugue" and the ricercars from "The Musical Offering" have no
    indication as to what forces ought to perform them. There is debate
    about whether "The Well-Tempered Clavier" was intended for
    harpsichord or clavichord. And in the curious case of the Fantasia
    in G, Bach included a single pedal note outside the playable range
    of any instrument he had access to, but one that would have been
    commonplace on larger organs in France.

    The musicologist Donald Tovey wrote that "Bach wrote on the
    principle, not that music was written for instruments, but that
    instruments are made for music." Since World War I, many musicians
    have showed us other sides of his work by switching up what the
    pieces are played on. Wanda Landowska was one of the original
    iconoclasts, making history with the first harpsichord recording of
    the "Goldbergs," after they had been performed solely on the piano
    for over a century. Stokowski's and Webern's atmospheric
    re-orchestrations of Bach fugues; Wendy Carlos's mind-blowing
    "Brandenburg" Concertos on the Moog synthesizer; Chris Thile's
    fast-as-lighting mandolin treatments of the Violin Partitas: With
    many of Bach's works, there's now a general recognition that
    transcription is not only fair game, but even an expectation.

    And yet things have been different when it comes to the "Goldberg"
    Variations, for which the boundaries of performance remain largely
    defined by the recordings made by the harpsichordist Gustav
    Leonhardt and by Gould, who recorded them twice on piano. Perhaps
    because of the work's purity--or austerity, depending how you look
    at it--transcriptions of the "Goldbergs" are usually seen as
    novelty projects, somehow stepping on the keyboardist's turf. While
    orchestral transcriptions of organ fugues and ricercars have become
    mainstream, and Busoni's piano rendition of the great D Minor
    Chaconne, originally for solo violin, is considered standard rep, no transcription or adaptation of the "Goldbergs" has yet stuck.

    There are those who prefer to hear the work as they imagine Bach
    might have done--on the harpsichord--while others would rather
    take the variations in on the modern piano, our culture's go-to
    instrument (like the harpsichord presumably was in Bach's). The
    results are very different: The harpsichord allows for very distinct articulation and encourages rhythmic flexibility, while the piano's
    natural suaveness suggests a more straightforward approach.

    My solution? Take the piece to the harp. In the opening of Variation
    1, keyboardists spend hours trying to amplify instances of implied counterpoint, whereby the left hand jumps around so much that it
    conceivably represents two voices rather than one. The pianist can differentiate with volume, making the lower notes a little heavier
    than the smaller notes on top.

    The harpsichordist, on the other hand, lengthens the lowest notes as
    long as possible, to feign some dynamic contrast, while making the
    upper notes shorter by contrast.

    On the harp, one needn't choose. As the instrument has no damping
    mechanism, the two voices keep sustaining, while creating some
    harmonic ambiguity.

    In Variation 20, a pianist has to figure out how to make multiple
    voices ring while the hands are fumbling around one another.

    While this is perhaps easier on the harpsichord, the lack of
    dynamics accentuates the natural dryness of the instrument.

    But the harp allows for the bass line to sustain while playing other
    voices, and is less complicated to perform, as the hands approach
    the strings from opposite directions.

    Everywhere in the "Goldbergs," the harp's lengthy "overring" allows
    harmonies to take over, rather than melodies. This is perhaps apt,
    as the melody heard at the beginning and end of the work never
    resurfaces. Indeed, one thing that makes the "Goldbergs" so
    interesting is that the theme is not in the right hand's melody, but
    in the left hand's harmonic pattern. If one looks to the score, the
    left hand of the opening Aria is composed in "style brisé" ("broken
    style"), indicating the continuity and sustenance of multiple
    voices, akin to the arpeggiated style typical of performances by
    plucked instruments like the lute and harp.

    The harp isn't perfect. It struggles with intense chromaticism,
    since the harpist must use his feet in an elaborate pedal mechanism
    to achieve sharps and flats. And we only play with eight fingers, as
    the pinkies are too short. As a result, some tempos have to be
    slower and the aura of the work becomes quieter and more intimate.
    (This can actually be an advantage.)

    The elephant in the room is that Bach never wrote for the harp, and
    it's likely he could not have conceived of an instrument that looked
    and sounded the way it does. But I never felt I had gotten into
    Bach's brain until I took the plunge into transcription. To my mind,
    his music is written for all instruments and none, and the harp is
    just another instrument as invisible to Bach as his mind is to us.
    Time's distance prevents us from asking the master any questions, so
    why should we place any restrictions on how and what we inquire of
    his music?

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)