J.S. Bach hardly needs an introduction. I could have named the article “My Music: Bach” and you most likely would have known whom I was talking about—notwithstanding the fact that there are a number of other fine composers named Bach. Indeed, Bach’s reputation is such that, while his music is unquestionably great, I sometimes wonder whether he unfairly overshadows his contemporaries. Are we still beholden to a nineteenth-century conception of history that places J.S. at the pinnacle of eighteenth-century music? What if, instead of a revival of interest of Bach’s work, there had been a rediscovery of, say, Rameau? I don’t think it is fair to say that Bach is categorically better than Rameau or his son C.P.E. Bach. We may prefer one over the other. We may also find certain pieces especially compelling. But the horse race has its limits as an analytical tool. If you listen attentively, you will find that they are simply different composers—each has his own, distinct musical voice.
For now, however, I have to leave Rameau and C.P.E. to one side. Onto J.S.’s music. I focus here on the instrumental works because (i) I know them better, and (ii) this article would be too long if I tried to cover the vocal music as well.
Keyboard Music
There is tons of this stuff. Of the big sets, I like the French Suites the best. The “French” label was slapped on by a biographer and doesn’t really have anything to do with the music. The “Suites” part is correct though. Each piece comprises a series of six or seven stylized dances. I would highlight No. 4 (E-flat major) and No. 5 (G major), which contain some of Bach’s warmest and most lyrical keyboard music. None of this, of course, is to impugn the quality of the other two books of dance suites: the English Suites (similarly, not English in any meaningful sense) and Partitas. Or, for that matter, the Well-Tempered Clavier or Goldberg Variations. I just find the French Suites particularly accessible. If you have lots of time, listen to all of them. You won’t be disappointed.
For the one-offs, I recommend the Italian Concerto. This time the adjective is apt. Although the piece is written for a solo keyboardist, it is meant to imitate the three-part Italian (i.e., Vivaldi) concertos that Bach admired and transcribed. Remaining faithful to that model, it has two lively outer movements (especially the third) and a delicate, song-like middle panel.
Other Solos
The Cello Suites and Sonatas and Partitas remain at the cores of the cello and violin repertoires. While later composers have written works for solo cello and solo violin (some of which are first-rate), all of them have had to contend with the monumentality of Bach’s achievement. It is difficult to write good solo string music. The instruments are really designed to play melodies—i.e., single lines. But Bach makes them, especially the violin, sustain the sort of textures (contrapuntal, chordal) that you would expect to hear in keyboard music or music for ensembles. The result is never boring, even though Bach only has one player, four strings, and a bow at his disposal in each instance.
Ideally, you should listen to all of the Suites and all of the Sonatas/Partitas. That would take four hours or so of your time. It makes sense to start with the most popular piece in each set: the G Major Cello Suite (No. 1) and the D Minor Violin Partita (No. 2). These are constructed like the French Suites, as a series of relatively short movements based on dance rhythms. However, Bach breaks the pattern with the fifth movement of the latter, the Chaconne—a 12-15-minute (depending on the performance) soliloquy for solo violin. And if you get tired of the violin version—though I don’t see why anyone would—you can listen to the piano transcription (really a rewrite) by Busoni.
I note that the three Sonatas for solo violin are slightly different from the Suites and Partitas. They follow the four-movement sonata da chiesa (church sonata) format: a slow prelude, fugal second movement, melodic third movement, and fast finale. The C Major (No. 3), with a fugue that approaches the Chaconne in majesty, is the grandest. That said, its slow movement, a Largo, contains some of Bach’s most intimate music.
Music for Ensembles
I will devote this section to orchestral music. There isn’t much of it (and even less chamber music). That is because the orchestra as we know it did not exist in the early eighteenth century. The variety of configurations used in the four Orchestral Suites and, even more so, the Brandenburg Concertos reflects the ad hoc nature of larger ensembles during Bach’s lifetime. So does the fact that Bach freely arranged his solo concertos for different instruments and occasions—the D Major Keyboard Concerto (BWV 1054), for example, is just the E Major Violin Concerto (BWV 1042) with extra notes to ensure that the keyboardist doesn’t get bored and transposed down a whole tone.
The Brandenburg Concertos are, as a set, obligatory listening. However, if forced to choose one, I would probably pick the fifth, in D Major. It has my favourite concertino (group of soloists)—harpsichord, violin, and flute—and a pioneering cadenza for the keyboardist. Two-thirds of the way through the first movement, everyone else stops playing, and the harpsichord gets about three minutes to show off. It is a wonderful way of subverting the Baroque instrumental hierarchy, in which the keyboard typically plays a supporting role, and exploring the harpsichord’s expressive potential.
As a violinist, it would be remiss of me not to mention the Violin Concertos, including the Double Concerto (BWV 1043). To be sure, there are later, longer, and more virtuosic concertos. But the two solo concertos and Double Concerto remain canonic—deservedly so, given their abundance of instantly appealing and memorable ideas. Their keyboard counterparts are just as splendid. My choices are the E Major (BWV 1053) and A Major (BWV 1055). It is hard to take issue with the buoyant allegros and melodious middle movements.
A Word About Recordings
For obvious reasons, recordings are currently much more accessible than concerts. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), Bach’s most popular compositions have been recorded many times over. A search for any one of the pieces mentioned herein will likely turn up several dozen recordings, if not more. They are not all of equal quality. Some of them are excellent; some are average; and some are bad. I hesitate to recommend specific performances, however, because there are in fact many good ones, and other listeners will have their own preferences. For example, I could direct you to, inter alia, Nathan Milstein’s 1973 rendition of the Sonatas and Partitas, Rachel Podger’s, or Isabelle Faust’s. All are, in my view, worth hearing. Listen widely, and arrive at your own conclusions. When in doubt, turn to one of the online databases or websites of reviews by credible critics. I’ve found plenty of fine recordings that way.
One final point. As with other Baroque composers, you will come across recordings using “modern” instruments (though many string instruments actually date from the eighteenth century) and others using “authentic/period” instruments, a.k.a. “historically informed” performances (HIP). The difference is that HIP practitioners use equipment modelled after that from Bach’s time (e.g., harpsichords instead of pianos). They also play in a style that is believed, on the basis of documentary evidence, to be closer to what Bach would have heard in his day. Unsurprisingly, HIP has been controversial—not least of all because it is basically a late twentieth-century phenomenon. From an academic perspective, it is worth asking to what extent the aesthetic of HIP reflects contemporary, rather than eighteenth-century, proclivities. As an ordinary listener, it is better not to get involved in the debate. I do not think that the quality of a recording hinges on which instruments the musicians are playing. There are good “modern” instrument recordings and good “authentic/period” instrument recordings. It is far more important that the performance be true to the text and emotionally compelling. To his great credit, Bach’s scores can withstand—and indeed invite—diverse interpretations. His music was built to last. Clearly, it has.
