Starting the Day with Bach
It is said of the great Protestant theologian, Karl Barth, that he began his day with the music of his favorite composer, Mozart.
Readers of this blog know how enthusiastic I am (in a very amateur way) of the “Cantatas” of Bach. I try to play the appropriate ones for the liturgical seasons. However, Lent poses a problem, since the Lutheran tradition did not permit musical performances during the Sundays of Lent. Of course, one could play the several cantatas for Septuagesima, Sexagesima and Quinquagesima which will solemnly and soberly carry one through the weeks of Lent.
However, my current practice is to turn to the six great “Partitas.” I have two sets of recordings: one by Richard Goode and one by (the Bronx born!) Murray Perahia.
One commentator has written of Bach — in comparison to Vivaldi, Telemann, and even Handel: “Bach’s music seems to convey an extra emotive richness, an extra level of humanity.” And Goode himself says:
We may never be able to account for the mystery of what animates his particular utterance and his incredible variety of expression. But, whatever it is, Bach’s music makes musicians feel grounded in a larger world context, rooted to something fundamental. It’s a very personal response, and I think that’s why a lot of musicians start their day playing Bach.
Barth is supposed to have said that when the angels are on duty before the throne of God, they play Bach; when off duty, Mozart. This anecdote may be “ben trovato” but it is right on target.
“One commentator has written of Bach — in comparison to Vivaldi, Telemann, and even Handel: “Bach’s music seems to convey an extra emotive richness, an extra level of humanity.” ”
This is so true. I’ve never been able to quite put my finger on what the difference is – how it is that Bach somehow takes it to another level (it’s frustrating to resort to cliches to try to describe how Bach is somehow on a different level of depth/richness/insight than his great contemporaries).
I’ve noted, too, how there is something about Lent that makes us want to turn to the “serious” sacred music. Somehow Lent brings to the surface a particular human longing that we manage to keep submerged the rest of the year, and that Bach manages to satsify in some way. Bach is somehow appropriate during Lent just as carols are somehow appropriate during Christmastime.
I wish I were more tutored in the technicalities of music so that I might “see” the intellectual form of his music even as I appreciate its affective depth. I think it is the wedding of intellectual penetration and affective purity that makes Bach unique.
A note on Barth and Mozart. Karl Barth died on the same day as Thomas Merton and the articles on their death were on opposite sides of the bottom of the front page (if I remember correctly.)
Merton wrote a very interesting note on Barth at the beginning of Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander . I don’t have a copy with me but, again if my memory serves me right, the sense of Merton’s reflection was that Barth was saved (from his Calvinism?) by his listening to Mozart.
As to Bach – the richness of Bach does wonders for the soul.
It’s as if Bach, Handel and Telemann were all artists who went to the same art school, and all given the same size canvas and the same oils and brushes to paint the same landscape scene – somehow, Bach’s painting would be better than the others, even though they were all looking at the same thing, using the same materials, medium and technique.
The other day I was trying to relax to the B-minor Mass, and it didn’t work. Bach is not relaxing. I think this is an important quality in sacred music: it doesn’t make you drowsy. In medieval Latin hymns refer to languor regularly. Christ comes to wake up the world. Bach wakes up the world. It’s not going to stay in the background. There is no I’m-ok-you’re-ok all-are-welcome vibe. If you’re going to worship, then worship. If you’re going to sleep, then sleep. Don’t try to do both at the same time.
This isn’t on-topic regarding Bach, but it is on-topic regarding speaking about music, which is so tough. There’s a book by Charles Rosen called The Classical Style which sets a really good example of doing this. Google books preview:
http://books.google.com/books?id=vGdcINvz9n4C&dq=the+classical+style+charles+rosen&printsec=frontcover&source=bn&hl=en&ei=Tz2NS_qiJpLUMpnjrG0&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=4&ved=0CBgQ6AEwAw#v=onepage&q=&f=false
Bach captures the sound of the ‘music of the spheres.’ It captures in sound the expanse of the cosmos and the playful spinning of the atoms. If he wasn’t a musician he would have made a great physicist. But he captures the human heart, too. I think of Bach and Aquinas as expressing in different ways the same thing.
This is really cool to see the bones of Bach’s music, in this case the fugues of the Well Tempered Clavichord:
http://jan.ucc.nau.edu/tas3/wtc/i01.html
Roll over the keyboard, click on a link in the list that pops up (the first one is a good one), then click on Play Movie. You see the notes; the graphic below the notes shows how he plays with the tune. It’s pretty amazing; you could spend your entire life listening to Bach and not absorb it all.
Oops that link took you directly to the movie; to see the main page go to
http://jan.ucc.nau.edu/~tas3/wtc.html
Contrary to popular opinion, Bach was Jewish. So argues Norman Podhoretz, conceding that his view will appear “outlandish.”
http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/1999/12/wasbachjewish/
But even Podhoretz would agree, I’m sure, that “you don’t have to be Jewish” to appreciate Bach.
There was a lovely little novel, written in Germany soon after the war, by Johannes Ruber, translated as “Bach and the Heavenly Choir,” about a musicologist elected pope. He wants to canonize Bach, but out of courtesy invites a leading Lutheran bishop to come to Rome and help him. The case for Bach’s sainthood is made through a concert of his music in St. Peter’s, the orchestra (as I remember) conducted by the pope, the Lutheran bishop playing the harpsichord continuo.
About Goode: I haven’t heard his Bach, tho I’m a great admirer of Perahia (from the Bronx? really? I didn’t know that). Goode has done a complete recording of the 32 Beethoven sonatas and they are splendid. He’s also a very engaging performer to hear in real life (I’ve head him in the past and he’s playing at Middlebury College again this spring).