Friday, January 10, 2014

"Brandenburg Concerto #3 in G mjr, 1-3" (J.S. Bach)

J.S. Bach is my favorite classical composer, hands down.  
Beethoven runs a close second in terms of melodies that grab me.
And then I have other faves (Gabriel Fauré, Erik Satie, Claude Debussy, Antonio Vivaldi, Giacomo Puccini, Franz Liszt, George Gershwin, to name a few.)
But inevitably people will say, "Well, Mozart, too.  Right?" 
Mozart, though brilliant, always was a little too cute and clever for his own damn good; I just hear a bratty kid every time I listen to his music, and it makes me want to turn it off.  (I have a similar reaction to Picasso's paintings.  Although I find his works intriguing, he was a total asshole--especially to women, and it leaves me feeling cold about his work.)
Anyway, growing up in the Lutheran church, I heard a lot of Bach--what with Bach having been a Lutheran himself.  Luckily, I really liked the music.  Even as a young kid, when someone asked me what music I enjoyed, along with rattling off a slew of mid-80s performers (some of which had staying power, others...not so much), I'd inevitably mention Bach, usually to the person's surprise.  I think adults just assumed it was something my parents had trained me to say, and kids my age just figured it was me being pretentious.  
But I really did like Bach.
A lot of it probably had to do with the album Switched-on Bach, which my mom often would play while doing housework.  For the uninitiated, Switched-on Bach is a (sadly) out-of-print 1968 album by Wendy Carlos (an interesting and talented figure herself, who is worth reading about) that uses Moog synthesizers to recreate some of Bach's "greatest hits" with pretty stunning, timeless results.  The album not only held the distinction of being one of the best-selling classical albums of all time, but it also introduced the Moog synth as a real instrument, not just a novelty that could be used for generating sound effects and gray noise.
For me, being a kid of the funky late 70s and New Wave-y early 80s, the album fit easily into the sonic palette that Stevie Wonder used on his "classic period" of albums as well as bands like Devo and Gary Numan & Tubeway Army.  (But I'm sure, in 1968, the album probably sounded like it had come from the year 2068.)  
But I can't owe my affection for Bach completely to Wendy Carlos and her futuristic synths.   It's Bach's singular approach to melody, counterpoint, and rhythm that have always engaged me.  His music requires equal amounts of precision and heart to perform well.  If you're missing one element or the other, what you get is the sound of Bach sluggishly rotating in his grave.
This is very true of "Brandenburg Concerto #3 in G major."  While I enjoy all six parts of this Baroque masterpiece, #3 always grabbed me the most.
The first movement (Adagio) has this bright, sunny feel that chugs along with this unceasing momentum.  There's also astounding counterpoint and all sorts of subtle interplay among the violas, violins, and cellos, where one set of instruments will start a line and then hand it off to the next set of instruments.
Then there's Movement 2.  Which kind of isn't a "movement" at all.  
The sheet music is just two chords on a single measure.  That's it.  Music historians sometimes argue about Bach's intent, but I think it's pretty obvious that he expected someone (lead violinist, maybe the harpsichordist) to improvise a solo.  How badass is that?  It's basically jazz circa 1721.  (Side note: I realize that this type of soloing is a Baroque technique that was not necessarily limited to Bach.  But I still think it's pretty gutsy to have two movements separated by a piece where you "give the drummer some.")
Finally, Movement 3 (Allegro) takes off like a racehorse, and it doesn't let up until the final note.  Once again, Bach uses the technique of one instrument/set of instruments starting a line and then handing it off to the next instrument, with the lead violin soloing every few measures before disappearing back into the swirling rush of notes.
There's also the basso continuo ("continuous bassline") throughout, played by the double bass and harpsichord.  I believe it's this specific Baroque technique and Bach's mastery of it that make me love this music.  It's that unceasing, melodic bass that gives Bach's music--and this composition in particular--a certain bounce that feels almost indebted to folk rhythms.  It's earthy yet spiritual music, and you can't get any better than that.
(P.S. I really like this rendition I found online performed by EUBO--the European Baroque Orchestra--from 2011.  It's a group that auditions and selects completely new members every year.)








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