Johann Sebastian BACH (1685-1750)
The Cello Suites
CD 1
No. 3 in C major BWV 1009 [24:31]
No. 2 in D minor BWV 1008 [21:42]
No. 6 in D major BWV 1012 [32:21]
CD 2
No. 5 in C minor BWV 1011 [27:14]
No. 4 in E flat major BWV 1010 [25:46]
No. 1 in G major BWV 1007 [20:14]
Tanya Tomkins (cello)
rec. 14-19 May 2010, Green Music Center, Sonoma State University, Rohnert
Park, California USA.
AVIE AV2212 [79.01 + 73:42]
As I and no doubt others have mused before, there is no such thing as the
‘perfect’ recording of J.S. Bach’s Cello Suites.
There will always be something which, in an ideal world, you would go back
and change: a passage made more clear, a harmonic emphasis or melodic phrase
shifted in emphasis. And then with the sun shining or in a different space,
a day or a month afterwards, you would do it differently again. This is living,
breathing music which has its own life and soul, and any recording can only
ever be a momentary snapshot. This is true of any performance of any music
of course, but with the cello suites this quality seems almost to be part
of the music’s very essence - teasing performer and audience alike into
a sensitively balanced and intimate collaboration of transient beauty and
fleeting emotional saturation. As a result I would rather just comment on
what I hear rather than play the critic, and, I hope, leave enough space for
you to make up your own mind.
Comparing this recording with that of Steven Isserlis on the Hyperion label
(see review),
one of the first things you notice are the timings. Isserlis has space for
a little clutch of fillers where Tanya Tomkins seems determined almost to
push her cycle onto a three disc set. Tomkins is indeed slower, and in the
way Glenn Gould ‘discovered slowness’ she is prepared to take
her time over Bach’s notes. The suites are not presented in numerical
order on this disc, and with the Suite No.3 in C major as an opener
we instantly alerted to Tomkins’ approach at the lowest note of the
opening phrase - a note which here takes exactly three whole seconds. Most
players will quite rightly linger a little on the bottom notes in this music
as they are so essential to its harmonic rhythm and counterpoint, but this
is as extreme as I’ve ever heard. Unlike Gould, Tomkins ranges in fairly
wide variations in tempo. Again this Prelude is a prime example, and
I suspect many would call this a ‘romantic’ interpretation. We
don’t really know how it would have been played in Bach’s time,
so I only give the label as a kind of stereotypical but universally understood
reference. Apply the same amount of rubato in Rachmaninov and you’d
have even the proletariat rioting in the streets. I don’t particularly
dislike Bach taken beyond the ‘motor on, keep going’ method of
Baroque music making, particularly in solo works. There is however the sense
that Tomkins is musing to herself somewhat, teasing improvisatory freedoms
from the music which are more personal than Bach.
The meditative, ruminative character of the playing carries on into those
sublime Sarabande movements. Tomkins plays with admirable early-music
restraint when it comes to rubato, applying touches of it here and there for
expressive emphasis. Her tone is by no means thin however, and the 1798 Lockey
Hill instrument used for the bulk of the suites has a fine sound throughout
its range as well as that all-important rich resonance in the bass. The Suite
No.6 in D major is played on a fairly recent 5-string cello modelled on
an example from 1699. The effects through the extra string can be quite special,
and it is interesting to hear how the spread chords in that tricky Gavotte
are solved.
Not all is slowness in these performances of course, and there are nice contrasts
to be had in the Courante movements which are more crisp in tempo,
though still highly flexible and undulating in character. Even in movements
where a dance character might be indicated, expression is the more the language
sought here, though we come close in the Prelude of that Suite No.6.
What can be a little discomforting are the moments where the underlying sense
of pulse is less clear, or just seems to move about. The final Gigue
is an example of this, and I would forgive listeners for losing the plot at
times in this and other similar movements. Tomkins is also not free from adding
her own vocalisations at times, though unlike Glenn Gould she is not singing
along - at least, that’s not what it sounds like.
We have to wait until the end of the programme to find the Suite No.1 in
G major, but this is a reference work which many people will have in mind
when thinking of the entire set. The timeless Prelude is just that
with Isserlis: timeless but within a framework. It is allowed to speak for
itself; given a platform for expression and a dynamic shape but with the notes
allowed to speak evenly and form the harmonies for which they stand. Tomkins
hears this movement more as one in which each note has a melodic value, or
at least starts out that way. Sooner or later the repetitions become somewhat
onerous and the forward momentum picks up a little, but still with plenty
of huge commas like potholes in a road. Once allowed to take off the ‘musette’
section climax appears as a result to be something of an island all of its
own. This is all well and good - and in many ways legitimate, comparable perhaps
to the melodic character of the arpeggio figuration in the first Prelude
from Book I of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier. In substance it is however
too much of a ‘fantasia’, and in texture too similar to the following
Allemande, which Tomkins plays truly beautifully. Contrast finally
arrives in the Courante, with some finely pointed articulation to go
along with the extra weight she gives to almost all of this music. It is refined
and elegant, but toe-tapping is never part of the fun. The Sarabande
is richly emotional, but at times so suspended in time that the musical discourse
can be hard to follow. This is another aspect of the playing here which one
may question: to what extent is the ‘human scale’, Bach’s
vocal character being stretched beyond conceivable breathability. This is
a quality stringed instruments have over singers and praise biology and physics
for that, but does the mind also feel completely at ease with such elongations
in Bach’s cello suites?
My opinion? You know I don’t have one - I’m a Libran, and therefore
always on the fence. I’m the bloke who looks at those fashion shows,
‘what not to wear when looking good naked’, and have to wait to
be told what styles look well on a person before nodding in sage agreement.
I would have nodded in sage agreement if they’d said the same person
in the same clothes looked awful. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; and
in this case the ear of the beholder. Tanja Tomkins is a fine cellist, and
I admire her excellent technique, sense of personality and original touch
in her Bach Suites. My problem is not with the sublime moments of which
there are many, nor even with the potential clash of a Baroque instrument
with an arguably ‘romantic’ interpretation. My difficulties are
with the pace and shape of lines and rhythms, of movements, and therefore
the pace and shape of each suite as a whole. When I’ve heard a movement
or two, like the Prelude followed by the Allemande of the Suite
No.5 in C minor, or come to the end of an entire suite for that matter
I know I’ve heard some wonderful music, but it all turns to soup
in my mind. It’s all been kneaded and knocked and allowed to rise again,
but while smelling delicious the bread which comes out of the oven looks like,
and perhaps even is an exquisite bonsai yew tree. It’s two very
good and solid things - player and music - which you appreciate and respect
instinctively, but which somehow don’t manage to connect at all in terms
of narrative.
So, to sum up, Tanya Tomkins’ beautifully produced recording of the
Bach Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello are A: some of the most profound
and movingly expressive performances currently available, or B: infuriatingly
eccentric and annoyingly confusing meanderings.
You decide, please.
Dominy Clements
Confusing... beautiful in many ways, but ...
Masterwork Index: Cello Suites