The famous French cellist played all six of Johann Sebastian Bach’s cello suites back-to-back, his instrument filling the Thomaskirche with sound, every last seat occupied. At the end of this Bachfest performance, reams of applause, standing ovations. A few hours before, I had a chance to sit down with him.
RF: Listening to you warming up, it struck me how many different ways it’s possible to shape a note, a series of notes, a chord or a phrase. The original scores of the cello suites no longer exist; there are only copies. In these, you see bow markings here and there. But even if we have articulation details in Bach’s own handwriting, what do you think: Are these obligatory, or only suggestions?
JGQ: The most interesting and important source for the cello suites is a copy by Anna Magdalena Bach. If we had a manuscript in Bach’s own hand, I’d say we should definitely use his bowing and articulation marks as the center of our inspiration. He was very precise in a day and age when it was usually up to the performer to take the initiative. One expected that.
So here’s the thing: Should we completely ignore the baroque tradition in which the player invents the articulation on the spur of the moment? Especially if we have such a precise source? I think that would be overdoing it. But you can strike a balance. My solution is to take greater freedom in the repetitions, as in the baroque tradition – not just articulating differently, but adding different ornaments and even changing to the notes around a little, as they did in those days. Many musicians are dead set against that, including my own personal shining light among performers of the Bach suites, Anner Bylsma. But I have a different view.
Do you think Bach played these pieces himself? He did play the viola, and maybe a hand-held instrument that was sort of a cross between the viola and the cello. When you hear or play these pieces, do you hear Bach playing?
Musicologists have studied this question much more than I have without finding an answer.
But what’s your feeling?
I think that the suites were clearly composed by someone who mastered the instrument, down to the last detail. So I can absolutely imagine that he’d pick up the instrument from time to time while composing. But I think he had much better things to do than to practice on it with the aim of performing them himself. He certainly would have had the instrument within reach though, to try out this chord and that.
Is there some effect that this particular, authentic space, the Thomaskirche, has on your playing? I ask that because some musicians say, „I owe it to myself to embody the composer no matter where I’m playing.“ And yet – what does this place mean to you? Do you feel the spirit of Bach here?
I think that time and the moment are an essential part of the musician’s profession. The concert moment and the perception of experience are at the very center of our art. My son is a painter, and that’s a completely different art form. His relationship to time is quite different. So I think that’s why we train our senses to be extremely sharp in the here and now, in the context of: Now we are experiencing the music, at this very moment! As human beings, we can’t escape it anyway. The audience and the performer share space at the point in time when music is being made. So when I play here, of course I perceive these walls, these arches, and think of how it sounded in the presence of Bach. I think about that every second.
Do you do breathing exercises or practice meditation before the concert to bring you into the here and now?
Yes, I have my rituals. One thing all musicians know is the Alexander Technique, a kind of applied meditation. Meditation is also usually about being rooted in your body. In a concert situation, the danger is that the head can take over.
Bach’s cello suites come in a group of six. Looking at them, you find patterns, such as the alternation between major and minor keys from one suite to the next. Do you see an overall dramaturgy in the six suites, to the extent that they are supposed to be played, all six of them, in order, as you are doing here at the Bachfest? One big arch from beginning to end? Is that how they were performed in Bach’s time, or is it that even important?
Whether the suites were performed at all back then or not is actually unimportant. It’s perfectly clear that Bach’s frame of reference was divine, timeless – and that he composed for the future. I would never question that there’s an architecture from the first prelude to the last gigue. It’s absolutely clear.
So you wouldn’t play them in reverse order?
No. I used to do things like that in younger years, for example if I played the cycle on two evenings, though I don’t like that. Then I would mix and match them so the two recitals would be roughly the same length; after all, the suites get longer as you go from One to Six.
But it’s quite clear: The cycle begins in G Major with those arpeggios, like in the first prelude of the Well Tempered Clavier. Here you see Bach the teacher. He was always that way. His music is incredibly sophisticated, but he also makes sure that someone who’s never heard a note of music before can follow it immediately. That’s what he does with this prelude, which is simply a flow of harmonies.
He goes from there to the dance movements. There’s a dialogue between G Major and the other keys over the course of the cycle. It’s no coincidence that the Fifth Suite, in C Minor, takes us to the darkest corner. The sarabande in it is almost ethereal; you can hardly recognize the harmony. From there, he launches directly into D Major in the last suite and into a wonderful, upbeat conclusion.
I’ve thought the same thing about the Well Tempered Clavier. After one piece, you want to hear the next. Maybe out of habit because you often hear them played one after the other. But I’ve thought that there’s actually more to that. Maybe Bach was thinking: Life is too short to do something for only one purpose. He was always killing multiple birds with one stone.
Would you like to give us a guided tour of the six suites?
Sure. The first suite is in G Major. On our instrument, that’s a very natural key because you have the empty strings G and D. The movements are short. The suite lasts about fifteen minutes altogether. The form is: Prelude, followed by five dance movements, and you can get used to this pattern. It’s a very harmonious work, and uncomplicated, in the finest sense of the word.
The Cello Suite No. 2 is in a minor key, which by definition is less natural, because in minor you don’t have the natural overtones. Bach stirs the emotions more with this one: introverted, searching, human.
The third, in C Major, has human joy in living. The first movement has a positive feeling, like walking through the forest and seeing beautiful scenes. There’s a conversational quality to this one. It also reminds me of a village celebration.
The fourth is in E-flat Major, the royal, sublime key. Think of The Magic Flute, those three chords at the beginning. It’s almost ceremonial. The arpeggios rain down on us as though coming straight from God.
Then there’s that dramatic Fifth Suite in C minor, very à la française with many embellishments, bringing a sort of stormy energy into the space. Like a Sturm und Drang, but a hundred years earlier. But there are also many contrasts in this suite. That is to say, the first three movements are imbued with that energy generated by ornamentation. Then, with the sarabande, we suddenly fall into a pit. Or are sent into outer space, where gravity is nearly imperceptible. Harmony, which is our gravity and our context, is ambiguous here, so we float. And the suite ends very philosophically with a gigue that would certainly be impossible to dance to, or very difficult anyway, because it’s very soft. There’s not s single double stop.
Moving on from there, there’s this sudden explosion of joy in the Sixth Suite in D Major, for which – and I apologize for not playing it that way – Bach specifies a cello with five strings. With a versatile cello, he wanted to open up new worlds, moving up to the higher registers, with an even more universal, brilliant D Major quality. Even the prelude is like Easter bells sounding out and celebrating. It ends on that very generous note.
That makes me want to hear them all right away. Thank you!
