As a performer, I find it essential to have a strong feeling for the character of the piece I’m playing. Although in the end its the time spent with Bach’s Autograph and the instrument (my violin - made by the Neapolitan luthier Genaro Venaccia in 1755 with pure gut strings, no shoulder rest or chin rest, - so in baroque set up - and a baroque bow) that bring the music to life, I find that musicological knowledge, reading other peoples opinions and analysis really help, and provide the backdrop to a personal interpretation.
In my study of the b minor Partita for solo violin by J.S. Bach, I have been inspired by the writings of David Ledbetter (Unaccompanied Bach), Jaap Schroeder (Bach’s Solo Violin Works), and Benjamin Shute (Sei Solo: Symbolum?: The Theology of J. S. Bach’s Solo Violin Works).
As a purely baroque violinist, I personally find that the b minor Partita has a much more intimate character than the other two Partitas in the series (the d minor and e major Partitas). The chord of B minor only has one open string - the d, so the general sound world is warm but somewhat covered - not so resonant. To take one practical example - the many a sharps that have to be played with an extended 4th finger on the pure gut d string sound naturally somewhat muted and difficult - the opposite of brilliant or easy. This and other similar practicalities of playing in the key of B minor on the baroque violin create a specific feel to the key and suggest a certain character or interpretation of the Partita as a whole.
The Characteristics of the key B Minor
In the Baroque era, composers and performers alike were very aware of the characteristics of the different keys. The instruments of the period responded differently to certain notes - the aesthetic did not require that every note sound equally brilliant - and the tempered tuning of the keyboard instruments meant that certain keys sounded more resonant (or in tune) than others.
The following descriptions of the character of the key B Minor by two contemporaries of Bach are typical of the period:
B minor:
(Charpentier 1690): Solitaire et melancolique [einsam und traurig]
(Mattheson 1713, S. 250f): ist BIZARRE, unlustig und [S. 251] MELANCHOLIsch; deswegen er auch selten zum Vorschein kommet / und mag solches vielleicht die Ursache seyn / warum ihn die Alten aus ihren Clöstern und Zellen so gar verbannet haben / daß sie sich auch seiner nicht einmahl erinnern mögen.
Playing in B minor on the Baroque Violin
To me, these descriptions also reflect the unavoidable physical challenges of playing in this key on a violin in baroque set-up and technique, and at first the unevenness in tone quality caused by the non-resonant notes really bothered me. When playing the baroque violin, we are constantly listening for the resonance - the gut strings naturally create more overtones than their metal counterparts, and the intonation is often guided by “difference tones”, which you also generally hear more clearly due to the richness of resonance on the baroque violin.
After quite some time of battling to try to make everything sound even and ringing, I decided instead just to listen to my instrument and try to understand what the different timbres and difficulties were telling me about the music. Bach was a very good violinist himself - surely he had a good reason for composing this solo violin work in B minor ? As soon as I stopped battling and started listening I started to find inspiration in the quirkiness of this key - certain notes really do sound dry and unfocused no matter how you play them whereas others shine and sing. Such contrast - what was Bach trying to tell us with this effect?
The B-Minor Partita as an Allegory for Christ as Man on Earth?
At this point I discovered the writings of Benjamin Shute - a Musicologist and Theologian, who has made an extensive study of Bach’s solo Violin works from a theological point of view.
Shute makes the point, that in contrast to the Romantic philosophy of “art for art’s sake,” the general belief in Bach’s cultural context was that music, by its very being, does and indeed should refer beyond itself.
He believes, and very convincingly argues, that the Bach’s six solo violin refer to the life of Christ:
G minor Sonata: Birth (Christmas)
B minor Partita: (Christ as man on earth
A minor sonata (before the Crucifixion)
D minor Partita (Crucifixion)
C major sonata (Resurrection)
E major Partita (Heaven)
Bach’s handwriting of the word “Partita” in the titles of the three Partitas, may even provide convincing evidence of the journey from earth to heaven: In the letter “P”, the letters J and S become ever more discernible until the 3rd, E-major Partita - the musical illustration of the court of heaven where J.S Bach is undeniably present!
The significance of the Number 2 in the B Minor Partita
In the first, b minor Partita however, Shute brings to attention the focus on the number 2:
It is the second Work in the series of 6
B minor has 2 Sharps (or “Kreuze”) in the key signature
The dances are each paired with a variation (or “Double”)
The two dominant and opposing musical cultures of the 18th century (France and Italy) are juxtaposed in a constant alternation between Italian and French Movement names
The Key of B minor as used by Bach in Religious vocal music to represent the dual nature of the incarnate Christ.
He goes on point out the fact that in Bach’s vocal music, B minor is often associated with Christ’s condescending to and identifying with sinful humanity in his incarnation, perhaps in part because the two sharps (Kreuze) of the key signature can recall the dual nature of the incarnate Christ (X). For example, the only five movements of the Mass “in B minor” that are actually in B minor reflect this association. Most tellingly, of course, is the “Et incarnatus est,” Bach’s only setting of the portion of the Nicene Creed affirming that Christ “was made man.”
The extensive repetition of the number 2 in the B-minor partita would thus most naturally seem to invite association with the dual nature of Christ and thus neatly coincide with this prominent association with B minor within Bach’s vocal works. The explicit and systematic juxtaposition of Italian-titled dances and French-titled doubles creates the most obvious and uncommonly emphatic sense of duality.
B Minor - a key of contrast both physically and allegorically
Accompanying the doctrine of the two natures of Christ is the idea not only of duality but of contrast. Many Biblical passages emphasize the contrast between God and man by presenting the two as a contrasting pair (Godly/Human). For me as player, the key of B minor is inherently rich in contrast - between the notes and chords that resonate freely and beautifully, and the other more difficult and covered sounding notes and chords.
In my notes below about the individual movements, I will refer to specific examples of the duality and contrasts inherent in this Partita.
Whether this interpretation reflects Bach’s true intentions with this partita or not is obviously a matter of opinion but as a performer, I personally find the idea inspiring and helpful as a general concept for mood and character.
Allemanda
The Allemanda has many similarities to the (later) Italianate aria “Komm, süßes Kreuz” from the St. Matthew Passion. Like the Allemanda, the obbligato viola da gamba part of “Komm, süßes Kreuz” (“Come, sweet cross”), features a marked contrast between hard, often jagged dotted figures and smooth, slurred gestures, thus allegorizing the paradoxical juxtaposition of “sweet” and “cross.” If the hard and soft musical gestures of the Allemand could be understood to parallel the duality of law/judgment and gospel/mercy, then it is interesting that the “soft” triplet gesture has the final word at the close of the Allemanda, just as the epistle of James remarks that “mercy triumphs over judgment.”
Allemanda Double
The “Double” (Variation) of the Allemand exhibits two more very strong references to the number 2.
The time signature is “Cut time”. Still in Bach’s time, the C with a stroke through it implied that the music would be played twice as fast as the movement beforehand in C without the stroke through it.
The notes are slurred in twos. This gives a beautiful lilting, flowing quality to the movement without losing the steady four beats to a bar feel that is characteristic of the Allemanda because with the baroque bow, the downbeats are naturally stronger.
Corrente
The Italian Corrente is a running, swift footed dance (as opposed to the more formal and rhythmically complicated French “Courante”.)
The musical lines flow in opposite directions creating the illusion of a series of musical mirror images. Benjamin Shute would argue this represents Christ as the mirror image of man.
Bach uses articulation to great effect here - the contrasting leaping or slurred quaver figurations lend variety and vitality, shifting from half bars to whole bars and highlighting the heimiolas.
I find it inspiring and helpful to imagine how a lute might play this piece - the slurred arpeggios are simply beautiful, written out, chords.
Corrente Double
The word Double here seems to mean that the predominant note value doubles the surface movement from eights to sixteenths, rather than the 2:1 time-signature ratio of the Allemanda and Double. Once again the fixation on the number two, as Benjamin Shute explains it, appears in these tempo proportions.
The direction Presto implies there should be no relaxation of tempo. Each movement and its Double has a pause over the final barline, meaning a slight pause between the movement and its Double, no doubt welcome to both player and listener in view of the relentless nature of this Partita.
At this speed the baroque bow produces a non-legato sound, the bouncing of the stick keeping the bow hair in touch with the string. One hears a succession of separate notes falling like raindrops. The modern bow, on the other hand, would produce tiny hailstones with the sautillé stroke.
Sarabande
Nowhere better than in this Sarabande do we see that solo violin music of the baroque era is essentially two-part writing, comprising a soprano and a bass line (whether realised or not) with intermediate voices sometimes distinguishable.
The very full texture and simplified rhythms enhances the feeling of a steady tread, but to me it is that of a delicate, refined, almost innocent person. I don’t sense heavy cloaks or crowns in this piece!!
It is helpful to be aware of the 2+2+4 Phrasing which encourages a confident downbeat on the odd numbered bars.
Sarabande Double
9/8 means lighter quavers (like the vln1 part of Jesu Joy of man’s desiring.)
The harmonic rhythm is reflected in the figurations and phrasing, and the tempo of the Double is not very different from the original Sarabande. In the next movement it feels musically appropriate to play the Double in exactly the same tempo as the Borea. In this way, Bach seems to be bringing the two contrasting elements ever closer together, or perhaps even melding them into one, just as the son of God and Christ as man are also one thing.
Tempo di Borea and Double
The title of the movement, Tempo di Borea, is unusual - the usual Musical term for this dance would be “Bourreé - a rustic stamping vigorous dance.
Borea however, lends itself to a double entendre. It can mean either the dance borea (bourrée) or the north wind, named for the Greek god Boreas (referenced, for example, in Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”). And the word tempo, in addition to its musical usage, can also mean “weather.” The title Tempo di Borea, then, can lend itself to being heard in terms of either dance or wind.
Whereas dance necessarily connotes the earthly and physical, wind is closely tied to the idea of spirit in biblical literature, because in both Hebrew and Greek a single word signifies “wind,” “breath,” and “spirit”: ruach (חור) in Hebrew, pneuma (πνεῦμα) in Greek.
If this association is valid, it might suggest that the dual associations of wind and dance inherent in the double entendre of the title Tempo di Borea could possibly have been intended by Bach as yet another allusion to the dual-natured Christ.
Fazit
We will obviously never know whether Benjamin Shute’s theory regarding the allegorical nature of the b minor Partita was in fact what Bach had in mind when composing this wonderful music. For me as a performer however, I am grateful for these insights into Bach’s theological worldview - it is obvious that his religion played a major part in Bach’s life and inspired most of his music. As a performer, I sense a very strong spiritual quality in these solo violin works - almost like an invisible force that envelops me when I am studying this music intensively - it seems to almost overtake my life - even when I am not playing the violin, this music is ever-present in my mind almost like a puzzle that I can’t quite solve but also can’t give up on - it both feeds my mind and frustrates it!
That Bach gave to the violin - a melody instrument with 4 strings - some of his most complicated and intricate contrapuntal music, already raises the question - why the violin? Perhaps, as Shute points out, because the violin is the most human of instruments - it has its roots in secular dance music, not like for example the Organ that was always associated with the church. In this way, the violin would be a very apt instrument to represent the “incarnation” that was so central to Lutheran belief. The human violin “incarnates” or brings to life in terms of physical sound-waves, the sacred written text (music written by Bach along with its rich theological symbolism), just as Christ was “incarnated” as a man.
And indeed, as a performer, one feels the hugeness of this task - as we tackle this music, the impossibility of perfection hovers over us as an undeniable fact, yet we strive for it nevertheless because the music is so irresistible and it calls to us to be played. Playing polyphonic music which is conceived from the bass on a melody instrument that has no real bass register is the challenge. No violinist I know has ever said that they are satisfied with their performance of these works, and yet we all feel the need to face them. In so doing we face ourselves - our resilience, our borders, the depths of our musical courage and capabilities.
Particularly with the baroque violin ( the violin as it was in Bach’s day) with the idiosyncratic, pure gut strings which are much less “reliable” than the metal counterparts today (but are therefore much more characterful), and without the help of chinrest, shoulder rest, fine tuners and modern bow - paraphernalia invented in the 19th and 20th century intended to make the violin easier to play and more “even” in sound - the sound and music making is much more direct, and with all the slight unevenness and inconsistencies or tone, much more human and less mechanical. In fact we even need the “unevenness” of the gut strings to bring out some of the hidden polyphonic musical effects which with modern violin and interpretation - the emphasis on perfection and evenness of tone - go unnoticed.
With the solo violin works, Bach has created not only a great musical masterpiece and possibly a rich and powerful musical allegory of his spiritual beliefs, but also quite simply a mirror for all violinists to hold up to themselves. Each of us has a personal journey through our lives with this music - a recording can only ever be a snapshot in time of where we were at that moment with that music - for the journey never ends and the result will never be perfect.
Perfection is not what is called for here, and is obviously not possible - Bach knew that, and I believe it was his intention create this situation in order to humble us in the light of something much greater than ourselves. It is not perfection, but the striving for it that is uniquely human and beautiful. This is the fragile beauty that only we, as imperfect human beings can understand - the timeless and universal quality that speaks directly to our souls, and moves us.
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