Bach: Die Kunst der Fuga, BWV 1080

• Performer(s): Christophe Rousset, Korneel Bernolet, harpsichords
• Recording: Ignace Hauville
• Recorded: L’Hôtel de l’Industrie, Paris; Nov-Dec 2020
• Label: Aparte

Christophe Rousset is probably like any other musician who has made recordings of other major works by Johann Sebastian Bach. Eventually, you want to record all the major works. The French harpsichordist and conductor has, to my knowledge, recorded the major solo works, including the English and French suites, the Well-Tempered Clavier (both books), the Goldberg Variations, the Six Partitas, the Italian Concerto, the French Overture (BWV 831), and with Christopher Hogwood’s Academy of Ancient Music, many of the harpsichord concertos. The Art of Fugue’s cover shows a far older man than the young virtuoso on the cover of an early Decca release from the mid-1990s, deep in thought, perhaps contemplation. Seems appropriate for this particular work.

As a collector I have many recordings of Bach’s Die Kunst der Fuga, BWV 1080, which collectively demonstrate a diversity of solutions on how to perform this work that was left in open-score, without a specific prescription for an instrument(s). I’m one of those who isn’t strict in a requirement for the piece to be played by a single instrument, or harpsichord(s) specifically. With so much ink used to write about the work, there is a lot of disagreement. Is the piece fully finished? If it was, are the copies that have survived in the final form that Bach had envisioned? Was the piece his last? Or not?

I can’t be sure these questions are the most important. For me, it would be how do we approach this work, which at some level have to be appreciated on an academic level. (As an aside, Mozart's Jupiter Symphony is admired for its use of counterpoint, but that is not laid bare, instead, it's wrapped in the package of a symphony.) The piece, for better or worse, is among Bach’s most controversial because of the way it was finally published after his death in an incomplete state, despite some academics who believe, while possibly misunderstood by his surviving kin, must certainly must have been 'complete.' My own thinking is that what was left for his family to publish was in fact unfinished, as far as a definitive plan, in terms of instrumentation, etc. To my knowledge, the intended instrumentarium in Bach’s works is never so cloudy, save, perhaps, for the echo flutes called for in Brandenburg Concerto #4. One would think, given the economies and care, he would have prepared the work for publication in the style of his Musical Offering (BWV 1079), which, while full of some mystery in the form of puzzles, was clear in the instruments that he’d considered. For me, this work, when performed in ensemble, can be quite nice. The same could be said for arrangements of his fugues from the WTC series, although clearly those were intended for an instrument like the harpsichord.

Among the most interesting keyboard renditions—and harpsichord ones to be sure—are those by Koopman, van Asperen, and Rieger. Both Dutch musicians add a lot to the score in terms of ornamentation. Rousset’s adds a second harpsichord for particular movements, and the practice isn’t unique to his recording. Koopman’s was the first to my memory of having a second player, his wife Tini Mathot. Rousset is joined by Korneel Bernolet.

When I re-auditioned those mentioned above in context to listening to Rousset’s, the first and obvious difference is the sound. Rousset is always recording on historical instruments and the variety of these has become a hallmark of his recording legacy. The anonymous 1750 instrument is presented brightly, but in a way that seems more immediate and authentic than the other named recordings. It’s as if I’m right there, with him and his instrument without anything interfering. All of Rousset’s albums have not been this good in terms of sound; the English suites, if I remember, were recorded for me at too far a distance from the instrument.

Rousset’s playing however is very different than that of the Dutch players I have identified; it’s even more austere than that of Pieter-Jan Belder. Like van Asperen, Rousset does not present the final unfinished fugue. This I don’t understand, despite its discussion in the booklet. The booklet’s notes, I might add, provide yet another dimension toward understanding this work, as a reaction to Handel. Concerning the ultimate movement, it is discarded because it was left incomplete, that Bach would have not performed an unfinished fugue. The movement in question, however, is an ambitious piece, and for me the one with the most affect. The other obvious solution should one not want to perform an unfinished work is to, well, complete it. There are some who have called the unfinished fugue an invitation from Bach to find a solution. While interesting as far as conjecture goes, there is no specific reason to believe this was intentional, save for the puzzles Bach left in the Musical Offering. But those came with instructions, indicating that they were, in fact, to be solved. In the case of the Art of Fugue, we are left with C.P.E. Bach’s note that his father died in an effort to complete the work.

In short, I believe Bach left the work unfinished, as far as it being prepared for either publication, distribution, or even sharing among his musical friends who appreciated his contrapuntal art. I am happy to hear the piece unfinished, but I also like hearing how musicians try and wrap the work up. The most recent one I enjoyed was by Lorenzo Ghielmi on organ ( Bach Fragments: Organ Works completed by Lorenzo Ghielmi), which is the second time he’s recorded a solution to the fugue with “three subjects.”

I always find it difficult to explain why I don’t like a recording; it’s simply more difficult a task than extolling reasons for liking one. Those already familiar with Rousset’s style, and specifically with Bach, will admire his precision as a musician. HIs generosity with rubato is lean, in alignment with, at least, his more recent recordings, including the WTC. I resampled his Goldberg Variations which had more speed and sparkle on offer, but then I realized comparing different pieces was a no-win exercise.

Christian Rieger’s recording was the first one I’d purchased fully realized on harpsichord and for me it was well-crafted, with good sound, and while not overly romantic in any way, it had just enough rubato. But my taste has leaned toward hearing more phrasing, more of a performer’s own voice in the music, which of course, doesn’t automatically make it better. Good taste is always required.

While I know there are critics of Koopman’s taste in terms of his generous ornamentation, it’s a solution I find refreshing and enjoyable. Rousset, in comparison, sounds sterile. There’s less shape when it comes to the melodic material within the fugues. It also comes across more serious, in many of the chosen tempi.

I don’t think any fans of Rousset’s Bach will find disappointment in this album, given the tight integration and synergy in the later tracks that spread the work across two instruments. Nor the sound quality, which is excellent.

That said, this one wasn’t a favorite. Which doesn’t mean I don’t admire the artistry on display. The one movement which seems to benefit from his exacting technique is in the dotted-rhythms of the sixth contrapunctus, in stylo francese. Not quite the opening of a big overture in, say, one of Bach’s own orchestral suites, but the pulse Rousset achieves is sharper than any orchestra might achieve playing in closest tandem. Robert Hill’s rendition isn’t nearly as precise. Yet, in some ways, he achieves a more rewarding solution, again, by way of his phrasing.

I’ll close by saying this piece can be challenging. Some of the challenges for listeners, in consuming this work as an album, is the monotony of the key, the theme that we hear over and over, and the concentration it requires to at least start to admire Bach’s art in counterpoint. The recorded solutions that involve multiple instruments, even those that include tracks with harpsichord(s), help alleviate the sameness that can be perceived in this music.

It’s in that guise that I think this album might be enjoyed, not as a still, tall, cold, drink, but rather when served alongside other performances. Having heard Rousset in concert some years back with French repertoire, I was in awe of his technique and the effect his playing had upon me and the audience. He commanded with his precision. That’s why I’ll continue to audition this in rotation, along with his Well-Tempered Clavier. I am hoping in time that I will warm to some of his interpretive decisions with Bach, but I’d also point readers to other recordings that, at least on the surface, have more immediate appeal, in terms of phrasing, rubato, and allowing the pieces to have a character that otherwise is missed by looking at the score alone.