J.S. Bach: The French Suites • Tristano

We have the next installment here of Francesco Tristano's recording of Bach's keyboard works with the so-called French Suites, BWV 812-817. As ever, Tristano records upon a Yamaha piano, but this recording was made in Paris, though the location is not named. The booklet goes to some length to describe the intended sound. The artist writes:

Here I was also seeking a direct sound, with less layers of reverb, but at the same time softer, to reinforce the sense of intimacy I mentioned earlier. I believe the French Suites convey a calm beauty, a lot happens, but it's never rushed. The aim was that the playing would evoke that beauty and accompany it.

In his past recordings in this series, the sound of the instrument has been, for me, one of the selling points — worth keeping in mind given how deliberately he describes his approach here. I started with the most famous dance from the set, the G major Gigue from the fifth suite (BWV 816). There it is: that touch. Some are going to be enchanted by it, others will find it a gimmick. Then there is the play that's applied in the repeats. It's the type of thing that captures your attention! I, for one, like these modifications, for it shows me an artist willing to have fun and revel in the brilliance of the writing by offering us a perfectly viable variation. But if the touch used in this piece offends, the rest of the album may disappoint.

For this review, I thought I'd give some commentary not by suite, but by some of the common dances used across the set.

Allemande

Each of the suites contain an allemande. These were seen as entrance dances, stately, not too quick. Tristano does not treat these all the same in terms of feel or tempo. The one from the sixth suite is played quite swiftly. The opening track, the Allemande from the D minor suite, is played quite flatly. Again, the speed seems fast for an actual dance. The flavor of the dance from the C minor suite is very different, again, played flatly, but the pulse is a bit more palpable. The B minor gets a bit of emphasis in the passing of a figure between hands; but it again is offered flatly without an attempt to give strong phrasing. I can't say the same of the E-flat minor Allemande; here we get some dynamic terracing but in terms of an intentional emphasis — there is none. The performance of the E major one feels too quick. The G major Allemande, though, felt very comfortable. It is treated with ornaments which come off cleanly and offer a bit of shape to the phrasing which Tristano doesn't kill off. The tempo, too, for me, feels just right.

Courante

These dances tend to be the faster of the lot. Tristano takes the C minor Courante to the extreme, not only with tempo but adds punchy accents. Here's an example where his touch can really become infectious. He makes it work at this speed. The E-flat major Courante for me can sometimes be difficult to "feel," however Tristano's speed here provides a nice solution. The other virtuosic performance comes in the sixth suite: it's nearly Gouldian in approach, Tristano's fingers show us no fatigue. I can't imagine hearing this piece played like this in Bach's time, but he has no interest in being a historical player. Instead, he's showing us Bach “in the future.”

Sarabande

With Bach I often feel that Sarabandes are journeys into deep caves. You work slowly through them, you look, admire, and consider the natural shape of your surroundings. Caves are dark, they foster contemplation. Tristano is on board with this thinking, perhaps, in his performance of the B minor Sarabande. There's less "darkness" in the performances of the fifth and sixth suite Sarabandes; of the others I was not a fan — not because they failed to evoke that darkness, but because the performances felt unnaturally stiff.

Menuet

The pair from the C minor suite: yes, more please! The opening one is pure simplicity which he maintains without decoration. The second one, however, is a fitting elaboration upon the first. I like that he includes the repeat of the first. The first of the pair from the B minor suite is played far too quickly. It works musically, no doubt, but then the far slower second one feels oddly juxtaposed. I get it, fast-slow-fast, but I would have liked to have heard it without such wide extremes. The sixth suite offers us a menuet polonais which is brilliantly executed and accented. The first from the opening D minor suite is played flatly, without emphasis or accent until we get wrapped around Bach's ornaments as a kind of knot in the wood. I would have loved to hear this pair at the same tempo. But alas.

Gigue

Tristano notes in the booklet that he attempted to play the Gigues quickly. The opening suite's Gigue, however, comes off as stilted. Its mannered performance has some charm, I think, deconstructed like it is. When that falling scale comes to the left hand, I don't know, it just works for me. This reminded me of one of those desserts, all the flavors are there, but instead of a cohesive cake with sauce, each component is presented in its own shape upon the plate. It's experimental. As is this performance.

I feel the artist is having a bit more fun with the C minor Gigue; the B minor is more of a virtuosic wind. The opening phrase sets a pole in the ground, the rest is us watching the attached flag flap about in the air.

The most satisfying one for me belongs to the sixth suite. It's just as swift as advertised, but the phrasing here for me works well. The sense of rushing to a point is an interesting feel. The speed would never work on a harpsichord, I'd wager, but here, it's clean and showcases the artist's spotless technique.

Conclusions

Probably more than his earlier recordings, I found Tristano searching for unique solutions across these suites. He does not restrict himself to historical notions about these movements as dances. He even speaks in the notes about doubting if they could be danced to. For me, the point is not to imagine members of the Bach family dancing to these pieces as they were played, but instead, the notion of dance gives us indication of how to phrase and give emphasis on particular beats. Likewise, when given pairs of dances, there's an expectation that they are played at similar tempi.

Tristano is willing to suspend these notions throughout his performances. For some these decisions may be seen as naïve, but I wouldn't use that word to describe this artist. I'd say instead he's looking to free himself — and the music — of these notions, to explore new possibilities. Some listeners will find some of these solutions highly polarizing. I kept going back to a piano audition I had at the Eastman school, playing something by Bach, and before I could get up, the professor stopped me, to show me that Bach, in fact, wouldn't have ornamented a passage as I just had. I understand that you leave a conservatory being taught a "correct way," but once you leave, the world is yours.

As much as I love hearing Bach on period instruments, I also like hearing bold new interpretations. The one aspect that comes across in some of these performances is what I have called "flatness." I should probably define this further: it's when he plays each note at the same velocity and pressure without any emphasis placed on downbeats or other regular intervals. Coupled with this is his incredible control with touch. The effect is almost mechanical. It's interesting, but ultimately it's not my favorite approach. Thankfully it's not a solution he applies across the board. Some may really like this as a foil to other movements that do possess strong accents.

What these performances do accomplish, however, is an opportunity to hear Bach's music anew. For me the French Suites are a challenging set. Some of the dances require care to pull off effectively in ways that his Six Partitas don't demand. While technically easier to play, what technique is spared for the fingers requires more from the mind.

While my experiment to analyze this performnace dance by dance showcased some interesting differences across the recording, one should also be asked to take the performance of an entire suite at a go. I'd nominate the E-flat major suite (BWV 815) as the candidate to try first. The opening Allemande feels familiar, with some connectedness in the right hand. And that opening tempo leads nicely into the Courante. And the pulse follows through in the Sarabande's left hand, as jarring as those short punctuations feel. The Gavotte follows, as natural as anything. The odd one out is the Menuet that follows a fleeting Air, which, I mean, its played so cleanly and yes, I had to hear it again. By the time Gigue gets our foot tapping, we've almost forgotten the oddness of that Menuet. My point? There's a cohesion that's palpable to us as listeners when we treat the suite as a unit.

There is little doubt that Tristano has lived with these pieces and wanted to stretch their boundaries with us. While I don't think all of his solutions work for me, there are moments of exquisite brilliance in this ultra-clean recording.