I’m a huge fan of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, and
with Book I being more frequently recorded and released
as a separate entity, was very keen to hear Peter Hill’s Book
II. I still consider his Messiaen piano music recordings
to be a force to be reckoned with and a potent reference. These
appeared originally on Unicorn-Kanchana and have now thankfully
been re-released on the Regis label at a bargain price. Hill’s
sensitivity of touch, keen ear for voicing and sheer musical
good taste is apparent from the outset in his Bach, and so we
know we are in safe hands.
One thing you will notice about these CDs is the generous timing
for each. Peter Hill only just avoids going over to three discs
as Roger Woodward does (see review).
Reminding myself of the things I like about Woodward’s playing
does however throw up vast differences between these players.
Woodward has a greater sense of drama, a chiselled and sculptural
approach to these pieces which, though not without sensitivity,
encourages an appreciation of them in a human rather than a
heavenly context. Despite the three discs, his tempi are in
fact often swifter than Hill’s, and Woodward only comes in at
about 160 minutes compared to the present set’s 158. Hill’s
recording is closer and has a more intimate, one-to-one feel
against the grander acoustic of the Celestial Harmonies recording.
A fairly typical comparison might be the Fugue in D sharp
minor, where Woodward is more forward moving, and rooted
in a left/right dialogue which means that the lower voice keeps
us in touch with reality. He has lyrical lines, but these are
more secondary in feel, or at the very least have equal status
to the voices which would more commonly be seen as having an
accompanying role. This attractively earthy view contrasts with
Hill, who, a little broader in tempo, sings more with the upper
line, floating more above a bass counterpoint which lives in
a little world of its own. This is a world in which the heavenly
treble and the earthly baritone complement each other, but don’t
so much enter into dialogue, each occupying its own domain and
carrying a more individual role.
There is one pianist which Peter Hill does remind me of, and
that’s the legendary Edwin Fischer, whose Bach Well-Tempered
Clavier is still something of a marvel, despite its 1930s
vintage and therefore understandably rather muddy recording
quality. Take the tempo of something like the Prelude in
C Sharp Minor, and you can see where a comparison of the
balance in control and poetry meet between these two artists.
The relatively measured speed of that particular opening pulls
you up somewhat, but also makes you listen anew, savouring each
note and each phrase. Hill is more often than not even slower
than Fischer, but one always senses that this is in the service
of the music rather than self-indulgence. Hill’s playing certainly
never wallows, though you have to accept the broad view he takes
and not let yourself become anxious and frustrated. As each
work unfolds, the logic of Hill’s choices becomes apparent,
and the joy is in re-discovering the pieces in a frequently
new sounding framework of reflection and open ended duration.
One other pianist I’ve brought out to compare Hill with is Angela
Hewitt, whose second recording of the Well-Tempered Clavier
for Hyperion is a reminder of how the romantic approach can
generate yet another set of delights (see review).
My huge admiration for Hewitt’s playing derives from the sheer
fantasy of her micro-management of each fugue voice and the
consistency with which she carries these ideas through an entire
piece, bringing each to vibrant life, and making each part of
an ongoing narrative of contrast and connection throughout the
cycle. Her approach does have more elasticity and rubato
than many, but always within that stable rhythmic structure
which all music demands – taking with one moment and giving
back with another so that the shape and direction of each piece
retains its satisfying inner logic. If it’s dialogue you are
after in that Fugue in D sharp minor then Hewitt’s
internal conversation is the most amicable and transparent of
all.
I’m terrible at liking what I hear at any particular moment
and just listening in awe at the gifts Bach and all of these
excellent musicians bring us, and while I know we’re supposed
to be in the business of placing new recordings in a kind of
hierarchy of preference I prefer to be less dogmatic when it
comes to something like Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier.
Peter Hill has a way of transporting us into a world of verdant
abundance, but one which is far removed from the bustle of modern
living. Some pianists have a way of creating something ‘modern’
with their Bach, and Glenn Gould might be argued as being the
leader in this field. All have a personal contribution to make,
and Peter Hill’s is in giving us lyricism without Angela Hewitt’s
more extreme rubatos, a romantic feel but in strict avoidance
of excess. His Bach is granted breadth and air, allied with
a close and confiding quality which is at the same time comforting
and subtly commanding of our absolute attention. Try and read
a book while this music is playing, and then try to keep count
of the amount of times you will read the same sentence without
absorbing a word. For this reason the recording should also
come with a government warning that playing it while driving
is to be avoided.
Hill’s ‘heavenly lengths’ do not mean that this is Bach without
energy, and there are of course pieces with swifter tempi. Hill
keeps the confiding quality even in the racing notes of the
Prelude in G major, the drive and power in the music
coming from somewhere in the ground beneath the piano rather
than in overt loudness and intensity of sound. This is not a
cycle prepared with Hollywood Bowl projection in mind, but neither
is it weak and watery. The strength comes from somewhere within
– the ‘soul’ of the music, rather than its expression in dramatic
gestures. There are exceptions by way of contrast, and the Fugue
in G minor comes close, with growing pianistic colours
building to a meaty but still unforced climax. The Fugue
in A minor also sets off with an imperious nobility; a
challenge resolving into an animatedly heated but still amicable
discussion.
Peter Hill’s technique is as good as faultless throughout this
lengthy feast of Bach, though I do feel his fingers almost tripping
over themselves about 4:20 into the Prelude in D major.
This is very much Bach to be treasured, relished at length and
reserved for desert islands. I would put it alongside Till Fellner’s
Book I (see review)
as something to keep close for those special moments where deep
inner journeys require a soundtrack which will take you beyond
your own imaginings into a place where time itself stops to
watch in wonder.
Dominy Clements
Peter Hill (piano)