He's on a mission from Gad.

From The Well Tempered Clavier.  Two tracks:

These two are particularly charming!  They are the fifth and sixth pieces within the Well-Tempered Clavier, and carry with them a certain spunk and personality — Bach was clearly writing with the intent of showcasing the tonal possibilities of all twelve keys, and accordingly the merits of well temperament.  Immediately after the very famous preludes and fugues in C major and C minor, the C# major counterparts showcase a glib, enthusiastic, thorough, and entirely endearing peek at the possibilities of what Bach must surely have considered extended tonality.  The Prelude is almost a taunt, an excited dance which dares to challenge, but never loses its friendly optimism.

In this recording, the notes sound conspicuously like sharp notes and not flat notes, akin to Db major.  I am yet to discover if the particular chord changes of Seventeenth Century works as compared to those of the Ninteenth Century in fact match these — however, I get the distinct sense that this prelude in particular is “sharp” in nature, and constantly strives upward along the circle of fifths .  It might be due to the tuning of the particular piano, also.  Nonetheless, the persistent presence of an E# sounds like Bach’s biting his thumb quite deliberately.

In any case, enjoy this set, and see it as Bach’s joy at having discovered a system of intonation which allows him to play such unexpected games centered around an impossible tonic.  This prelude is purely a delight in a new discovery, altogether with a good-natured teasing of the nay-sayers, who still can’t quite comprehend the enlivened frolick.

These two are played by Glenn Gould in 1965.  It’s noteworthy that Chopin would always play Bach prior to public recitals; nothing else could adequately prepare him for the independence of melodic line he would require.

This is haunting — only the most perfect consonances were treated as such; octaves and fifths are very common.  I am reminded of Arvo Part’s thinking in which he grants each line its own identity.  Here, the upper voices are not tied to functional harmony, so the lower melody does not implicitly bear the burden of chordal roots.

Update: It occurs to me that this type of piece would make excellent listening directly prior to any appreciation of J.S. Bach; the independence of voices and the implicit assumption of their absolute equivalence was still paramount in his day; it was only later that the movement of harmonies would truly become the predominant vehicle of music.

WHERE IS YOUR BACH NOW?

“As I had the good fortune a few years ago to be heard by Your Royal Highness, at Your Highness’s commands, and as I noticed then that Your Highness took some pleasure in the little talents which Heaven has given me for Music, and as in taking Leave of Your Royal Highness, Your Highness deigned to honour me with the command to send Your Highness some pieces of my Composition: I have in accordance with Your Highness’s most gracious orders taken the liberty of rendering my most humble duty to Your Royal Highness with the present Concertos, which I have adapted to several instruments; begging Your Highness most humbly not to judge their imperfection with the rigor of that discriminating and sensitive taste, which everyone knows Him to have for musical works, but rather to take into benign Consideration the profound respect and the most humble obedience which I thus attempt to show Him.”  — J.S. Bach, dedication of the Brandenburg Concertos, 1721.

It’s profound just how gracious good ol’ Johann had to be in deference.  It offends our modern-day sensibilities, grown out of a Lockian liberalism and a strong humanistic drive.  But it also points out an important aspect of today’s political climate: music has always been sponsored through elaborate systems of patronage by a powerful few; it has not been at the whims of a public free market economy.  As such, continued investment of taxpayer dollars in the arts is highly desirable, and will continue to be.

More on the B’Burg Concertos later.  But a bit more food for thought: Bach wrote most all of this music specifically with a certain set of musicians at Köthen in mind — and it’s altogether likely that his familiarity with their particular abilities (or lack thereof) likely had something to do with the degree of difficulty of the parts he wrote.  Imagine: now, the Brandenburg concertos are treated as some kind of mythical divine gift from a past master (and surely they are!) but this master wasn’t merely a master of tones on an abstract tapestry of sound, he was also a pragmatic master of recognizing individual talents and abilities, and playing to personal strengths.  Rampant speculation, of course — I’d like to learn more to properly spin that.