Mahan Esfahani performs Bach's Italian Concerto & French Overture

• Performer(s): Mahan Esfahani, harpsichord
• Producer: Simon Perry
• Recording, editing & mastering David Hinitt
• Recorded: St. John the Baptist, Loughton, Essex, March 2021
• Label: Hyperion

Philology and self-image play roles in the artistic vision of Mahan Esfahani, a harpsichordist with whom I’ve had a hot and cold relationship with, at least from a distance, as a collector. Understanding Mahan is more difficult for me than being able to listen to his recordings. In this one, released on Hyperion back in September of 2022, he records the titular works the Italian Concerto, BWV 971 and the French Overture/Partita in B Minor, BWV 831.

Mahan is quoted in a NY Times article on his approach to Bach:

Speaking before the Bach, Mr. Esfahani again threw jabs at the early-music crowd, dissing authenticity and historicity. Noting that he plays Bach differently in the company of works by living composers, he said, “I give you completely inauthentic Bach, but Bach which is authentic to me.”

The harpsichord is, of course, an historical instrument that is used as part of a broader approach to understanding and appreciating baroque music. Esfahani, however, has not exclusively sequestered his music making on the oldest instruments. The history of the instrument is complicated with the introduction of “revival” instruments in the earlier half of the twentieth century, that differ in sounds from the historically authentic models.

The desire to play old music in an old style may be a contemporary fascination, but its aim has been to interpret music given the sounds original to the era in which they were composed. The term authenticity has unfortunately gotten embroiled in the discussion of the so-called HIP movement. I can agree with Esfahani’s statement, given the lens of Peter Kivy, who wrote at length to this topic in his book, Authenticities. Authenticity is the wrong word. So let’s use historical. Does Esfahani try and present an historical interpretation of Bach?

His approach given his philological perspective is to seek out the original text of the music by looking across multiple sources. His liner notes go into detail about how he does this, but in short, he’s in search of the best text, given that single, certified (Bach approved!) texts don’t exist. The scholarship doesn’t seem to be done only in pursuit of historical perspective, and so the whole pursuit is somewhat clouded for me. Yet, it is a perspective that sets him apart from other artists.

His choice of instrument is interesting, again, I assume done in alignment with his artistic vision. He had an instrument made which was to align with historical principles, while also outfitting it with modern technology and unusual proportions. The result is an instrument that’s louder than others, so much so that one orchestra was commanded to play louder to strike a balance with it, in concert. He’s been clear that he’s not in alignment with the HIP movement when it comes to playing on historical instruments, exclusively. He joins other musicians who are perhaps best labeled post-modernist in their take on HIP.

The reason is quite simple: these are performers with whom I like to play chamber music, and I do not pay attention to other issues. My opinion is that I should not evaluate whether the instrument is modern or antique, because my vision is much broader. It is merely a choice, like someone who chooses to be religious or not to be religious.

The association with religion, is perhaps apt. Those who live in baroque world typically live within or outside of, the religion of HIP. But you can see how his choice in looking at original texts and using a quasi-historical instrument speak of some religious rites, while eschewing others. It’s done in the context of artistic vision. To be fair, Esfahani is not alone in his adoption of this straddling position as a contemporary performer; Reinhard Goebel, most famous as the leader and violinist with one of the world’s most influential HIP groups, today speaks out against an adherence to using older instruments. I too find his position confusing, seeing how he counsels and teaches those using those older instruments outside his other professional conducting activities.

There are aspects of Esfahani’s playing, which is brought out in this recording, that are interesting. The middle movement of the Italian Concerto, for instance, offers a solution on how to phrase what can be tedious in some player’s hands. His registration choice clearly puts the melody on top of the texture, and his use of rubato in the timing of both parts, I think, lends a very organic feeling to the movement. The melody may not always feel sung, but it has shape and a level of feeling that is frankly absent from a lot of other performances.

The final movement of the same work is presented at a break-neck speed. It feels rushed in spots for me, but he is technically able to pull this off, alongside some pregnant pauses which adds to the interest of the performance. He’s turned what’s admittedly a virtuosic piece into a show-stopper. He’s able to run away with the lines as such as they live in the fingers. If we think about the same piece being performed by violins and an orchestra? The interpretation, I think doesn’t work. As a keyboard piece? It’s hard to not find his performance ravishing.

The same movement also finally engages the special clutch in Esfahani’s instrument, what is for me is the controversial 16 foot set of strings. While not unique to recordings of the this work, few instruments exist today that employ the lower octave strings. I found the use of such an instrument by Andreas Staier in his recording of the Well-Tempered Clavier to be off putting to me. It may be because of its novelty. Esfahani employs the lower set in the opening to the French Overture, where perhaps it is best appreciated.

While we know such instruments are historical, using such a stop, inspired by organ builders, perhaps, the use of this stop in solo keyboard music is an unusual thing for the HIP movement. One could conceive of using the extended range of the instrument to support a left hand in basso continuo work (to align with a double bass part), but in solo pieces, to my ears, it sounds like too much of a good thing.

This feature of Esfahani’s instrument plays a significant role in this album. I don’t think there is enough historical context for how this lower “stop” would be utilized in solo pieces such as these; if there is, I am not aware of the treatises that discuss it. But let’s assume Bach had such an instrument and set about to play his music with it engaged? How might he have used it? The range of colors Esfahani pulls from his Frankenstein instrument I think is among the interesting things its capable of and he puts these colors and dynamic contrasts to fullest effect with the French overture.

The 16 foot strings used in the four duettos (BWV 802-805) are for me less convincing, musically speaking. There is, of course, question about which instrument is appropriate for these pieces (organ versus the harpsichord), and the lower register does help punctuate the bass line, but sadly, the colors he achieves are too strange for me to enjoy. Perhaps with time I can acclimate to this sound? But the analogy to Frankenstein keeps coming forth as my most apt way to describe the sound. The lightness used to play the G major duetto, compared to the E minor or the A minor? It’s a (sound-)world apart. And far more satisfying.

The crayons of course are out all over the French overture, meaning he’s in continual search of different sounds and colors. While good taste should be brought about when gilding the lily, so to speak, the choices Esfahani is putting into play are novel and for me they match well with his articulate style of playing. It’s here that I’ll draw a parallel again with the Staier recording of the WTC: I didn’t always “get” why Staier chose one registration with his instrument versus another, in the context of the preludes and fugues. For me, Esfahani’s choices feel a little more purpose-bound. Perhaps the best example of this is in the final movement, Echo, of the French overture. While he takes on the role of an organist with assistants at the ready to adjust the stops, we can hear the imitation of, say, an orchestra, complete with strings and woodwinds. Again, his use of rubato, I feel, captures the spirit of the music in ways that few performances on piano or harpsichord match. While I can’t speak to the historical authenticity of playing this way, as a product of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, I find the interpretations fresh.

Two more pieces are presented: two Capriccios, BWV 992 and BWV 993. The first piece opens somewhat contemplatively, but at a tempo that seems pushed—and I think realized for the better. I think Esfahani does well as presenting this music as a series of emotional reflections, I can see an actor on stage showing the audience a story without using words. The horn call in the Aria di Postiglione I think is well-done; perhaps the best I can remember. Fans of Call Me By Your Name will know this piece. The fugue is played with the same kind of bouncy spirit, coming off as light and easy, despite the technical challenges with counterpoint.

I am less familiar with the second Capriccio, “In honorem Johann Christoph Bach.” There are moments where I think this work might have benefitted from some space, by slowing down the tempo. The effect in a few spots feels frenetic. That, or taking more time with pauses? It’s the brand of technical virtuosity that Esfahani is capable of seeping in; while exciting on its own merit, I think the music might benefit from the insertion of time. (The ending of the piece, in the way his instrument rings, is rather sublime.)

In the end, this album (and perhaps his series of playing Bach for Hyperion) is really less about philology than it is Esfahani’s artistic manifestation as a virtuosic personality. It’s funny, the Wikipedia article for him misses the mention of any controversy with him as a musician, from the now famous concert where catcalls erupted, forcing him to stop playing Reich’s piano phases, or his spats with other harpsichordists. The picture of Esfahani in the liner notes, holding a hat, just so, speak more about this artist, I think, than anything written about him or by him. It’s obvious to me he sees himself as an artist, in the most romantic of ways, perhaps misunderstood, either because of his artistic choices, or his desire to avoid the so-called club of other HIP musicians.

Esfahani also is quoted as saying:

In other words, I have all of Bach’s harpsichord music at my fingertips, which I think is something that no other harpsichordist can say right now. I have played every single note. The Hyperion label has confirmed to me that, if I want to, we will undertake the integral. If nothing unusual happens, my intention is to record next spring the English Suites and, probably, the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier.

I am not a fan of the instrument he uses, as interesting as a 16 foot register is, from time to time. To be fair, I was also not a fan of other recordings using the 16 foot stop, even those that are completely historical. I doubt that will change his vision to use this instrument in his future Bach recordings. Yet so does the quote reveal his personality, one may be aching to be seen as the great, misunderstood artist? Certainly he is aware that Benjamin Alard is also recording the entirety of Bach’s keyboard works, for both keyboard and organ? And if I’m not mistaken, Maasaki Suzuki is also continuing to record Bach’s works, now concentrating on the organ. Of course these HIP musicians, who tend to stay within the lines of being historical, don’t play by all the same rules that Esfahani does. If that’s what he means, I do think he is (today) alone.

If you strip the politics, allusions of religion, and discussions of philology and artistic vision from trying to understand these interpretations, I think it’s more helpful as a listener. While the results he achieves on this record are not always satisfying to me (mostly, I think, due to the use of the 16' register), I do think Esfahani’s voice is one we ought to embrace and hear. If I do understand at what is at his core, it’s a desire to interpret this music authentically from within, using a harpsichord (or more specifically here, his harpsichord) as the medium. As long as we are willing to embrace the idea that what music he creates may in fact have sounded foreign to a listener in 1730 (and we'll never be able to say, so it may well be a moot point), it is hard to argue that many of his ideas are compelling and musically satisfying to us in 2023 (or 2024!). In some ways Esfahani’s interpretations, his albums, belong on the shelf maybe not next to Koopman, Leonhardt, or Staier, but next to those by Tipo, Gould, Gulda, or Schiff?