Among the three “big” German baroque giants, J.S. Bach, G.F. Handel, and G.P. Telemann, all three wrote keyboard works, but Bach probably stands as the most celebrated. Today, at least, Telemann’s keyboard works are the least known and admired. In Bach’s oeuvre, we have a large catalog of organ works and several collections he referred to as the Clavierübung, having prepared four collections. Historical records would indicate that both Handel and Bach were celebrated performers, in addition to leaving us behind scores to perform today.

Pierre Hantaï is a well-known Bach interpreter. I often return to his recordings on harpsichord as references.

In this new release, Pierre Hantaï records suites HWV 426-429 in addition to a fugue. The suites come from a collection known as the “8 Great Suites” and my guess would be that Hantaï follows up with the remaining suites in the future. We’d be fortunate if he did, as this release is very exciting.

The opening Prelude to the first suite in A, marked Prelude, is quasi-improvisatory. Comparing this new recording to the prelude recorded by Ton Koopman, Hantaï comes across as far more natural sounding; under Richard Egarr’s fingers, the prelude takes on an especially virtuosic opening, but it’s Hantaï that I think satisfies the most. Preludes acted as a type of toccata, from the Italian, a piece that was meant to warm up the fingers. The French clavenistes might have written these unmeasured, and while that flavor is fully referenced in Handel’s score, it’s the combination of Hantaï’s great style and his amazing sounding instrument that starts this new release off in good directions for me. It works well as an opening to Handel’s suites and to a recital as well. It’s apt to compare Handel’s suites to, say, Bach’s Six Partitas. Handel’s suites however are shorter affairs, at least in the number of dances. What I admire in Handel is the tight cohesion to the movements; I can’t say why for sure, but their themes, where they sit on the hands, they seem clearly to fit together as a whole. The exuberance in the flourishes in the Prelude from the first suite come back in the ornamented rhythmically repeated gestures in the final gigue. I think Hantaï does an excellent job at keeping the style across the suites whole too.

The opening of the second suite in F comes from a completely different world; the piece may sound simple but the sustaining power of the harpsichord makes difficult work at how the melody has to float on top of the left hand. It would be apt to compare this piece to, say, the slow movement of a violin sonata by Corelli; with the violin sonata the line could be ornamented not out of exclusive necessity, but as a means to allow the performer to apply a rhetorical declaration to the listener. For the solo harpsichordist, the use of ornaments keeps the sound alive, despite the underlying melody we could imagine being sung. The style by which Hantaï sustains the melody is well done. I can’t speak to the rhetorical underpinnings, but the organic freedom he allows himself contrasts nicely with the mechanical nature of the second movement. It’s what shows off, I think, Handel as a skilled composer: this piece is born out of the harpsichord. The need for melodic ornamentation and the showcasing of the mechanical nature of the harpsichord would be lost in the sound medium of a piano. The final movement of the movement presents to us a fugue, just as rhythmically interesting as one by Bach. The ornament that opens the fugue carries the mechanical flavor of the second movement, while the entrances of the subject afford the performer some organic liberties. Hantaï subtly has some, maybe not to the same level of his keyboard playing peers; the ending presents itself with the most obvious place for flourish, which Hantaï admirably takes up, without going in to excess.

The rest of the album takes a journey to the dark side—into minor-moded territories—with equally compelling performances. Of special note is the D minor suite’s Courante, a lovely, delicious dance, which surprises with Handel’s harmonic turns, and is so superbly rendered into music by Hantaï. The closing Presto of the same suite should be well known as being reused in one of Handel’s organ concertos. Comparing the rather symphonic orchestration Handel used in the organ version, Hantaï’s attempt at rolling the chords and volume contrasts do as well as I think any harpsichordist could expect.

What puzzles me is Handel’s opening of the fourth suite in E minor, to open with a fugue! It’s a great fugue, don’t get me wrong, but it breaks the mould of what we might typically consider for keyboard suites. It’s written in the same way as the fugue I referenced above, with a rather catching opening motif, highlighted by Hantaï with an ornamental, rhythmic flourish to the theme that makes the entrance of the theme easy to pick up each time it appears. I compared Hantaï’s rendition with that of Masumi Yamamoto, in her recording of Handel with gambist Ibrahim Aziz on FHR. The sound quality between the two recordings should be mentioned; the engineering and closeness of the mikes in Hantaï’s new recording are superior to anything else I can compare it to; there’s also just more confidence in Hantaï’s playing, the strong beats are more solid. I also compared this fugue’s performance with the 1973 performance by Blandine Verlet. Given the age of the recording, it holds up well, I thought. However with Verlet, there’s no rhythmic motif, no ornament to decorate the theme; the speed chosen seems perfectly fine, although Verlet’s tempo isn’t consistently solid (she seems to rush 3/4 of the way through). With Hantaï the piece isn’t merely played, it’s a performance that seems to celebrate the music.

I am not sure you wouldn’t expect this recording to be good; Hantaï is among the most reliable, most musical living harpsichordists today, whom I consistently excels in his style of the music. His Handel has become a new reference. I am guessing by some forty years later, it may still be it is that good. Most definitely recommended!