Brandenburg Concertos, part I

Brandenburg Concertos, part I

September 28, 2015. Johann Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, part I.  (Note: we illustrate the concertos with live performances by the Orchestra Mozart of Bologna, Claudio Abbado conducting.)

 

Johann Sebastian BachThough today there are perennial favorites with audiences and performers alike and ranked among the finest examples of Johann Sebastian Bach’s music, the six Brandenburg Concertos were perhaps the most elaborate failed job application in the history of music. In late March 1721, Bach sent a carefully prepared manuscript of the Concertos to the Margrave Christian Ludwig of Brandenburg, with the following dedication recounting their origin:

Since I had a few years ago, the good luck of being heard by Your Royal Highness, by virtue of his command, & that I observed then, that He took some pleasure in the small talents that Heaven gave me for Music, & that in taking leave of Your Royal Highness, He wished to make me the honor of ordering to send Him some pieces of my Composition: I therefore according to his very gracious orders, took the liberty of giving my very-humble respects to Your Royal Highness, by the present Concertos, which I have arranged for several Instruments; praying Him very-humbly to not want to judge their imperfection, according to the severity of fine and delicate taste, that everyone knows that He has for musical pieces …

 

The trip Bach refers to is mostly like his visit in 1719 to Berlin, where he tested and accompanied home a newly constructed harpsichord for his employer, Prince Christian Leopold of Cöthen. Regardless, Bach presumably played for the Margrave. Apparently pleased with the performance, the Margrave then requested of Bach a score to add to his library.

 

Bach seemingly enjoyed his job in Cöthen. Prince Leopold was himself and an avid musician and maintained his own private ensemble. He was also a Calvinist, which freed Bach from the necessity of composing sacred music. Yet, for whatever reason, Bach began to look elsewhere for employment, and saw the music requested by the Margrave as an opportunity. The dedication further read:

I very humbly beg Your Royal Highness, to have the goodness to maintain his kind favour toward me, and to be persuaded that I have nothing more at heart, than to be able to be employed in some opportunities more worthy of Him and of his service …

 

Thus, Bach presented the Concertos as not only the scores the Margrave desired to add to his library, but as an impressive musical resume.

 

The immediate fate, however, of the Brandenburg Concertos is unknown. The Margrave certainly did not hire Bach, as Bach later went on to serve as Cantor at the Thomasschule in Leipzig. It is generally thought that the Margrave did not even bother to acknowledge their receipt, much less to bestow on Bach any kind of reward. Nor, is it believed that he even had them performed. Though, both of these assertions rest on little more than speculation and the pervasive lack of documentation during that era. However, the Margrave most likely did lack the instrumental forces to perform the works (the Sixth would have been within the closest reach of his meager in-house ensemble), as King Frederick William of Prussia was not a large patron of the arts. Regardless, after the Margrave’s death, Bach’s manuscript ultimately was lumped together with a large collection of scores from his library, and were assigned the nominal value of four groschen apiece (roughly $4) in order to divide the estate equally among his heirs.

 

Like so much of Bach’s music, the Brandenburg Concertos (with the sole exception of the Fifth) fell into obscurity, and were not rediscovered until generations later. They first appeared in print in 1850 to mark the centenary of Bach’s death, and then later gained wider attention when they reappeared in 1868 as part of the Bach Gesellschaft editions. Yet, even with the growing interest in Bach's music spearheaded by Felix Mendelssohn, and the burgeoning field of musicology and the more general enthusiasm for early music during the mid to late 19th century, the Concertos still did not gain wide popularity until the following century. Today, however, they are praised by audiences and scholars alike. It is difficult to escape their remarkable charm, and their impeccable craftsmanship and immense complexity, combined with just the right amount of ambiguity, will forever provide food for scholarly debate.  (Continue reading here)

 

Concerto No. 1 in F major

 

The first of the Brandenburg Concertos (here) is also the only one to consist of four movement as opposed to the more typical three. At first glance, the fast-slow-fast ordering of the first three movements suggests that the set of dances which make up the fourth and final movement were perhaps an afterthought appended to the work. Yet, this is perhaps not the case. It is believed that the bucolic work may have begun life as a three-movement “Sinfonia” to introduce the Hunting Cantata of 1713, and comprised of what modern audiences now know as the first, second and fourth movements of the concerto. In a time when recycling music for various purposes was common, Bach extended and revised this original Sinfonia to create the much-beloved opening work of the famed Brandenburg Concertos (and further used portions of it again in the cantatas "Falsche Welt" and “Auf, schmetternde Töne der muntern Trompeten”). To the existing three movements, Bach added the jaunting Allegro third movement, as well as the central Polocca to the finale. Perhaps to increase to feeling of the piece as a concerto, the third movement features prominent violin soli.

 

The overall scoring of the concerto is unusual. Contrary to his normal practice, Bach specifically calls for a “violone grosso” (the Baroque equivalent of the modern-day contrabass) in place of the more usual “violone” to double the continuo an octave below. The inclusion of horns in the score, to the modern reader, is easily overlooked. However, the more strident tone of the natural horn, compared to the modern valve instrument, on which the parts would have been performed in Bach’s day, easily pierces through the orchestral texture, lending their own unique color. Furthermore, the selection of the now obsolete “violono piccolo,” a smaller version of the violin tuned a major third higher, seems also to be a purely coloristic decision by Bach as the instrument does not appear in the earlier “Sinfonia.” It is a curious choice since Bach makes no use of its brilliant upper register, and, while its sweeter tone certainly makes it an ideal solo instrument, the fact that it is also less powerful than its far more familiar cousin also makes it easily lost within the orchestral sound. However, perhaps these curiosities of orchestration are partly the reason Bach chose the F major Concerto to lead off the set, wishing to make his boldest move first in trying to gain the Margrave’s attention.

 

The opening movement curiously lacks any prominent solo passages, revealing its “Sinfonia” origins. Overall, it is a masterful display of counterpoint, as the interplay of the instruments is skillfully handled throughout the course of this relaxed movement full of pastoral charm. As expected, the following Adagio adopts the key of the relative minor, and further omits the two horns from the scoring. Melodically, the movement is dominated by the woeful tune introduced by the first oboe and later answered by the violono piccolo. The two instruments engage in delightful contrapuntal exchanges throughout the movement, with each section of their mournful dialogue separated by lugubrious echoes in the continuo. Quite interestingly, the final cadence is thwarted by a passage of isolated chords spread out across the ensemble, lending the final bars an eerily modern sound. From the closing half cadence of the Adagio, the Allegro third movement returns to F major in a rustic 6/8 meter. Contrasting the full ensemble in this movement are brilliant solo passages for the violono piccolo, sometimes further accompanied by individual lines for the first oboe and first horn. Lastly, the final movement alternates a stately minuet, scored for the full ensemble, with two trios and a Polocca. The first trio is scored for two oboes and bassoon, after the fashion of Lully, and returns the music to the key of D minor. Next, the Polacca is scored only for strings, with the first violin leading the reduced forces with a tranquil melody that unexpectedly erupts into jovial thirty-second notes during its closing strain. Finally, the second trio changes to duple meter, yet maintains the rustic air of the movement with its pair of “hunting” horns accompanied by the oboes.

 

Concerto No. 2 in F major

 

Though placed second Bach, the following Concerto, also in F major (here), was possibly one of the last to be composed, and it is well-known today (somewhat infamously) for its Herculean trumpet part. Overall, the work conforms more to the expectations of the Italian concerto grosso form, yet in Bach’s hands engages in greater contrapuntal interplay and exchanges amongst the soloists as well as with the ripieno of strings and continuo. Four soloists are indicated in the score: a tromba, a recorder, an oboe, and a violin. Despite the “Tromba” indication, the actual instrument Bach meant for the leading part of the concerto to be performed is somewhat of a mystery. It is generally accepted that Bach meant a trumpet in F, sounding a fourth higher than written. Indeed, Bach may have composed the part specifically for the court trumpeter at Köthen. Thus, the part has traditionally, in recordings and performances alike, been performed on a trumpet, either the modern valved instrument (which includes the piccolo trumpet) or the natural trumpet. Yet, some have pointed out the lack of balance amongst this selection of soloists, and the degree to which the trumpet dominates over the other three, leading to a reevaluation of Bach’s intentions. It is possible Bach meant for the part to be performed on the horn (also in F), or at least for it to stand in as a suitable alternative to the trumpet—a curious assertion since the horn’s mellower tone would blend far better with the other soloists. Even a soprano saxophone has taken up the Tromba part. Regardless, from its position at the top of the score and the florid writing Bach bestowed upon it, the Tromba part will always maintain a commanding position within the work, and remain one of the most challenging parts within the trumpet repertoire.

 

The first movement, adhering partially to the Italian model, contrasts the soloists with the ripieno of strings and continuo. Following the orchestral introduction of the movement’s theme, the soloists gradually enter the fray. Though Bach typically avoided idiomatic writing, he nonetheless achieves interesting colors: first, the violin by itself, then the violin and oboe, followed by the oboe and recorder, then the recorder and tromba, and lastly, all four together. From this point on, no soloist appears by itself, but is always accompanied by another, and they constantly wrestle with the orchestral for control of the theme. Owing to its natural scale, the tromba is absent from the central Andante in D minor. The ripieno of strings is also missing as well, allowing the three other soloists to develop a pensive little tune atop a steady continuo of eighth notes. Lastly, the finale begins with the tromba (the most recognizable part of the piece) announcing the subject of a bona fide fugue. The four soloists, led by the mighty trumpeter, dominate the movement as the orchestra is reduced to a purely accompanimental role.