Last week I went on a mini tour to Nashville, TN with a classical/pop chamber group. I drove close to 18 hours in 3 days, played four concerts, and had a blast. The only attention that Mr. Bach received, however, was during sound checks: a little Allemande here a little Sarabande there. Within 12 hours of my return to Chicago, I immersed myself once again in the wonderful world of Bach, and it was good.
I share a teaching studio at Northwestern University Academy
with an amazing guitarist who helps organize the Segovia Series at NU. After teaching one day, he told me about an
upcoming recital featuring Hopkinson Smith on the German lute (a.k.a. theorbo)
performing the first three Bach Cello Suites.
There was no way I could miss this. Despite my crazy weekend of traveling
and performing, I canceled my teaching
and decided to treat myself to an afternoon of baroque bliss.
Below is a description of my personal experience:
Below is a description of my personal experience:
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The performance takes place in the intimate and charming
Lutkin Hall on NU campus. A sense of
nostalgia fills my soul as I recall the many master classes and recitals I attended
and participated in during my years at NU.
I sit quietly in anticipation of the music I am about to hear. I have never heard the theorbo before, so I
can only imagine how it might sound. I
wonder about the choices that the master lutinist will make regarding
harmonization, ornamentation, tempi, etc.
Finally the waiting ceases and the time finally arrives.
A very tall, yet unassuming, middle-aged man walks out on
stage holding an enormous lute. He takes
a deep bow then sits on a solitary bench center stage. Before he plays Bach, he softly tunes his
instrument of 20 strings. Even the
tuning sounds gorgeous. A moment of silence,
then comes the familiar opening arpeggio of the first prelude. I tear up almost
immediately. For me, the character of
the first suite is one of peace, and I have never before heard it played so
peacefully. The G Major Suite being performed in C Major may throw off the ears
of those who are blessed with perfect pitch, but it does not bother me at
all. The lutinist transposes all the
suites a 4th higher to keys that rest more naturally on his instrument.
Overall, this is the quietest recital I have ever
attended. A cough from an audience
member can easily wipe out an entire phrase.
The dynamic range of the lute seems quite limited when compared to that of
a bowed instrument. Hopkinson, however,
makes up for the absence of dynamic variation and tempi, by adding an amazing
harmonic foundation ripe with complex counterpoint. As a cellist, I have to imagine
the implied harmonic line beneath me as I play the solo cello line. Today, no imagination is needed as I am given
the “ear-opening” experience of actually hearing other voices conversing
with that of the solo line.
On the repeats of the dance movements Mr. Smith does not change his interpretation or any articulation, but rather adds lovely ornamentation as is in the baroque tradition.
At one point during the recital, he addresses the audience. He describes the unusual tuning of the instrument (a d-minor chord with an f on top coupled with a bass register diatonic scale in octaves) and defends his transcription with supportive information about Bach’s own desire to transcribe his works for several different instruments. As he says this, I suddenly realize that in a way, I am transcribing the suites. The suites were originally written for a baroque cello that had a straight fingerboard, gut strings, and a convex bow. The 6th suite was probably written for the piccolo cello – an instrument which fell out of fashion after the 17th century. I play on a modern cello that has an angled neck, steel/tungsten/silver strings, and a concave bow. Suddenly a sense of freedom blankets me. I can change articulations and bowings if they work better on my instrument as long as I do so in the style of Bach and have well thought out ideas to support my decisions.
For the encore, Mr. Hopkinson reveals that there is no solo repertoire written for the theorbo, so he apologizes for having to perform the Sarabande of the first suite once again.
On the repeats of the dance movements Mr. Smith does not change his interpretation or any articulation, but rather adds lovely ornamentation as is in the baroque tradition.
At one point during the recital, he addresses the audience. He describes the unusual tuning of the instrument (a d-minor chord with an f on top coupled with a bass register diatonic scale in octaves) and defends his transcription with supportive information about Bach’s own desire to transcribe his works for several different instruments. As he says this, I suddenly realize that in a way, I am transcribing the suites. The suites were originally written for a baroque cello that had a straight fingerboard, gut strings, and a convex bow. The 6th suite was probably written for the piccolo cello – an instrument which fell out of fashion after the 17th century. I play on a modern cello that has an angled neck, steel/tungsten/silver strings, and a concave bow. Suddenly a sense of freedom blankets me. I can change articulations and bowings if they work better on my instrument as long as I do so in the style of Bach and have well thought out ideas to support my decisions.
For the encore, Mr. Hopkinson reveals that there is no solo repertoire written for the theorbo, so he apologizes for having to perform the Sarabande of the first suite once again.
I certainly don’t mind.
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Links: Baroque Cello
http://www.cello.org/heaven/baroque/baroque.htm
Theorbo
http://richardsweeney.com/everything-youve-always-wanted-to-know-about-the-theorbo-but-were-afraid-to-ask/
sounds amazing! would love to hear something like that.
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