Koopman records Suites by G.F. Handel

In November 1720, Handel published in London his first set of harpsichord pieces entitled Suites de Pieces pour le Clavecin. The title of these eight suites likely points to the association with the genre’s popularity in France and his continuance of the tradition. The [Wikipedia includes this quote (The Harmonious Blacksmith - Wikipedia) as his introduction to the collection:

I have been obliged to publish some of the following Lessons, because surrepticious and incorrect Copies of them had got Abroad. I have added several new ones to make the Work more useful, which if it meets with a favourable Reception; I will still proceed to publish more, reckoning it my duty, with my Small Talent, to serve a Nation from which I have receiv’d so Generous a protection.

The structure of the pieces, however, isn’t as regular as the first collection penned by Johann Sebastian Bach, which today we know as the Six Partitas. The collection has gotten attention as of late with a number of notable recordings.

Francesco Corti’s recording has received a number of awards with his album on Arcana entitled Handel: Winged Hands: The Eight Great Suites and Overtures. I also enjoyed Pierre Hantaï’s rendition on Mirare. I feel many readers may also find Richard Egarr’s rendition endearing, recorded on Harmonia Mundi. My first taste of this music came in the form of a 1980s recording on DG Archiv of Trevor Pinnock, featuring the final movement of the fifth suite, HWV 430: The Harmonious Blacksmith. This suite is included in the new recording by Ton Koopman.

Koopman writes that despite recording so much Bach that he also favors the music of Handel, although he hasn’t recorded so much of it. Finding this recording released this month was a surprise; the recording does not include all eight suites but as Koopman writes, what would fit from the collection on one CD.

The first thing one will notice when playing this album is the close, intimate sound and amazingly rich timbre of his instrument. It is often easy to pick out students of Koopman in recordings as they will be playing instruments by the same maker, Willem Kroesbergen. The recording was made in Koopman’s home. Far from being dry, I admire the intimate sound of his instrument. It is a real pleasure to hear it so closely and the recording may inspire you to think you’re in his own salon to listen. The ending of the aforementioned piece speaks to something you rarely get to hear with the harpsichord when it’s on a stage: its resonance after the keys are released.

The other thing that becomes apparent as you listen is something I’ve noticed when watching Koopman play in videos: he has a very strong sense of pulse that is visible in the way he moves his body. This emphasis of the beats across the bars is audible in his treatment of rhythm. The beats are strong and some of the faster notes in between at times feel “squeezed in” to fit these beats which is simply a different feel than we’re most likely used to hearing. I can’t say that the feeling is intentional or not but it lends the music a very organic, human element which can sometimes be lost when listening to what is otherwise a very mechanical instrument.

The other noteworthy element in this performance is Koopman’s treatment of the dotted rhythms. He speaks to this in the liner notes.

Suite in d, HWV 428

The third suite is featured first on the disc; it includes an air with five doubles. Koopman’s focus is immediately heard in this emphasis with the right hand’s melody, encrusted as it is with figurations in high baroque fashion. Koopman is clever enough to change keyboards to vary the volume and intensity of the right hand in the opening Air. A running flourish is fancifully brushed across the keyboard and is not the only time in the album that Koopman whips one of these runs out in a way that is clearly understood as fanciful window dressing. The first double puts all the emphasis on the left hand with a running figuration which Koopman plays quite evenly. There are some quirky rhythmic episodes throughout the doubles which keep us all on edge; in these subtleties I find value to appreciate the music in its microcosm. Such a performance, I feel, speaks to the baroque composer’s focus on figures and the rhetorical lexicon they provided musicians to express a variety of emotive affects.

The final Presto of the suite will be familiar to many Handelians, appearing in one of his organ concertos (HWV 309), not to mention the overture to Il pastor fido HWV 8a and other keyboard suites. There are a few moments where his rhythmic lock isn’t as tight as what might expect from an orchestra playing the same music; by near the end when the run comes in, however, I’m in awe by how Handel (and Koopman) have transformed a relatively quiet mechanical instrument into something bigger than the sum of its parts with this music.

By comparison, Corti’s rendition of the final movement is a firestorm. It’s flashier in every way. His instrument nearly sparkles and his assuredness with the music is never in question, he’s a commanding player. Egarr’s performance is more earth-grounded (with a far better acoustic, in my opinion) but it still fleeting, employing even more rubato. He’s a little freer with his runs. Like Corti, Egarr focus more on the bigger, multi-measure phrases in the music.

Suite in F, HWV 427

The opening to this suite features a highly ornamented melody in the right hand; as with the Air in the suite discussed above, Koopman shines with this kind of material, for me. The second movement, marked Allegro is played quite evenly encouraging toe-tapping as our ear follows the regular pattern of sixteenth notes until the faster ones tickle our ears. The second Adagio takes us through a scene change; for me, this is the opera composer Handel accompanying a character through a walk in the woods; its French character is unmistakeable; but in the end it’s a simple departure before a final quick movement. Its contrapuntal theme spanks it hard out of France and this is a piece Bach may have well admired. The Italian genesis of a contrapuntal theme in the German Handel’s hands is given its due with an interesting development. Pieces such as these helped convey a composer’s mettle as the real deal and I think Handel’s solution, and Koopman’s performance, is outstanding. The final chord is our reward, our pearl: the sound of Koopman’s instrument here and its careful tuning are so delicious.

As an alternative, I auditioned Pierre Hantaï’s reading again of the final movement. His touch is far more nuanced; there’s more variation in the shape to the phrasing that’s pure finesse. His treatment with slowing the piece down near the end, while apreggiating the final chord, is far more dramatic and showy. It’s good stuff.

But there’s also something so ultimately satisfying in the sound of Koopman’s newer recording, being closer to the instrument and player.

Suite in g, HWV 432

My favorite movement from the seventh suite is the Passacaille which, for me, could go on longer. It’s a variations piece that follows the same harmonic progression. Readers should know I’m a sucker for an ostinato.

Corti’s recording starts the piece off innocently enough before the second episode with a plodding, heavy bass in octaves. The anticipation he creates for the later episodes is palpable. Each new cascade of sound is presented carefully and intentionally with precision and sensitivity. The effect is that Corti isn’t just reading the page but instead intelligently putting something more into the music than what Handel wrote.

The word I keep coming back to with Koopman’s recording is honesty. This is not to say he isn’t a sensitive or imprecise player; but the effect to my ears is that he’s giving us what’s on the page and letting the music speak more for itself, without as much interpretive “help.” I think great musicians are always balancing the two for their audiences.

And I can totally embrace Koopman’s approach. The recording, again, speaks to an intimate, if not solo performance meant for the enjoyment of the player. The other element of honesty comes across in the sound. The intimacy and transparency of this recording is as honest as one might hope for in a recording.

Final Thoughts

I’ll lay my bias on the table; I am a big fan of Koopman’s traversal of the Bach organ works recorded for Teldec/Erato. I also loved his recording of the Bach Partitas (BWV 525-530) on Challenge.

This new recording by Handel sets new high bar for me in terms of sound. Doing comparisons with this recording against those I mention was tedious and a bit infuriating. It pointed out for me the big flaw in Corti’s recording with all that acoustical glow and noise. The Hantaï recording, too, has way too much bloom and reverb. The Egarr recording is closer to the ideal, but it lacks the richness that’s captured in this new recording by Koopman.

I hope recording producers read this: this recording’s sound is awesome. Please, please make more recordings that capture the intimate yet rich nature of these instruments like this one. And yes, it would be great if more harpsichordists could benefit from amazing instruments like Koopman’s.

In terms of playing, I can’t say if Koopman set out to be a young Handel, a showman, a man of the world in his renditions. It’s not what comes across. What I gather instead is someone sitting down in their own space to enjoy the fruits of these works in an honest, intimate, and personal way. The theatrical nature conveyed through Egarr’s and Corti’s recordings, not to mention the fine detail brought out in Hantaï’s phrasing make it clear why their recordings are so fine and amazing.

But outside the otherwordliness of a concert hall, I also found great pleasure in this interpretation. Koopman’s mark is as ever evident. It had me going back to explore his earlier recordings. As a case in point, his reading of the fugue, BWV 846, recorded on Erato in 1983, might feature the same instrument, I can’t say for sure, but it’s got Koopman’s emphasis on ornaments and firm feeling of beat; what’s different is the solid lock on what exists between those beats.

Again, I’ll say it, this recording is honest. I think it ought to be studied for the way Koopman embraces rhetorical devices in the music, such as including a pause before a final cadence, even in the absence of a large acoustical space. As a seventy-eight year old musician, Koopman is giving us his best. And that honesty and intimacy is something different, but still worthy of our admiration. I know I’ll come back to this recording often.