Bach's Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue
Background
Among Bach’s surviving works, which ones seem to suggest virtuoso flair? When I consider Bach’s legacy, he wrote some conservative music, right? Organ chorales, religious works such as the B minor Mass and the cantatas… but I watched a recent lecture on YouTube about his music and the video focused a lot upon his “last two works” (in the context of the BWV catalog), the Musical Offering and Art of Fugue. While what these pieces sound like don’t suggest virtuosity in the style of, say, Vivaldi, Locatelli, or Tartini on violin, in the ways their playing was described by contemporary observers, there are accounts of Bach’s organ playing. Early criticism suggested his playing style was extroverted enough that it was said he introduced, and I’m ad libbing here, but “foreign tones” into his playing. One can only imaging he stepped outside of his tonal foundations with chromatic fancies.
I’d wager that the Musical Offering and Art of Fugue (BWV 1079-1080) are virtuosic pieces of music, at least compositionally. I also think Bach took great pride in this ability to write contrapuntally. This isn’t a disputed belief, I’m sure, given the evidence and a lot of ink.
Yet his Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue in D minor, BWV 903, is probably unique in his works for keyboard, aside from the famous capriccio embedded into the first movement of his fifth Brandenburg concerto, BWV 1050. Which for me speaks to two points: (a) Bach most definitely had the virtuosic flair within him in alignment with other musicians of the period (the Italian violinists listed above), and (b) as a pragmatic composer, he likely wrote with intention for the purpose of his music. Growing up, and thinking about music composition, I aligned myself with the misplaced idea that composers wrote whatever they felt like, for a purpose none other than the creation of art. And while in our own time there may be examples of art created for art’s sake, the history of western music clearly points to the pragmatic element in musical composition, that the art was created for a specific purpose at the time. While Mozart was able to write symphonies on commission for the public’s entertainment, Bach’s legacy is clearly dominated by the music he wrote for his peers to help them in their service to their god.
In Bach’s secular world, there must have been occasions for him to show off a bit, as we might say. And this singular piece, BWV 903, is the ideal example of virtuosity of performance. The piece is admired for its dramatic expressiveness and intricate chromaticism, characteristics that distinguish it within Bach’s oeuvre. The sweeping arpeggios, the boldness in some of the harmonies, and the improvisatory nature of the fantasia, nearly schizophrenic in the presentation of differing musical ideas? Yes, it speaks to his virtuosity as a composer, but also as a performer. This music for me is less about glorifying God and is clearly designed to bring attention to the human behind the keyboard.
The scholar George Stauffer has suggested the piece went through three stages of composition, and was conceived and completed over a ten year period. And where the fancy of the opening fantasia was admired by later Romantics, Bach tempered this strong, affective and rhetorical form with the daring counterpoint in the fugue, demonstrating again, not only the performer’s virtuosity, but that of its composer.
We can look at this piece as an anomaly (not only among Bach’s compositions, but those by contemporaries), but I wonder if we’re misguided with what we don’t have preserved? Clearly, the capriccio in the fifth Brandenburg concerto has come to us alongside a “straighter” version, BWV 1050a, where the opportunity for a little cadenza and what was on paper is less extrovert and longwinded. Which suggests, staying with Bach’s texts, that wild playing may have been more commonplace than what we might be to expect, considering what is written and what is improvised. The secondary example might be the violin sonatas by Arcangelo Corelli, a generation earlier, where his very conservative writing can be compared to some elaborate versions published later, to showcase the way, supposedly, gifted violinists actually played these pieces.
Either way, my own thinking about this piece has me wondering. For what purpose was this written? Was Bach challenged to create this for a particular occasion? A play-off, perhaps? Did someone commission Bach’s performance of such a work for a special occasion? And what did others think, why did it get so well-distributed over Europe during his time and after? What about its wildness attracted other musicians’ attention? When we think of Bach’s legacy as an organist of some exquisite skill, it’s pieces like this that seem to legitimatize the legacy.
Let’s look at some performances I might recommend.
Performances
Suzuki (9:54)
Masaaki Suzuki’s recording (BIS) was made in ’98, in the same Kobe chapel where many of his Bach cantatas were recorded. He plays, of course, upon his Kroesbergen instrument, the sound for which I’m always a fan. I am not sure the chapel, with its nearly 4 seconds of decay time, is ideal for a harpsichord, but this isn’t exactly a chamber piece, we might imagine. This was the type of piece for which there needs to be an audience. The recording isn’t bad; the performance for me is exciting. Suzuki in general for me can teeter between conservative and refreshing, and to my memory, this is among his more daring and exciting performances. He clearly feels comfort in executing Bach’s rhetorical effects in the opening fantasia; the fugue begins solidly enough, until the ornaments start to creep in, adding requisite flair to balance the extroverted nature of the opening fantasia. The rhythmic pulse is felt as the piece develops, I can nearly see his teacher Ton Koopman’s head bobbing as he plays. His technical abilities are on display, keeping the tempo regular as he’s thrown the landmines of ornamenting with part of his hand while the other is playing an alternative line. It’s a technical and artistic triumph for me.
Alard (11:11)
Benajmin Alard’s recording as part of his 2024 release, his volume nine of Bach’s complete keyboard works is available from Harmonia Mundi. Alard takes his time with the fantasia, compared to Suzuki. The acoustic is wildly more muted, a chamber presentation, and he uses the famous triple-keyboard Haas instrument from 1740. Historically speaking, if one had access to this instrument, who wouldn’t want to use it for their recording? But we know this monster instrument was an evolution of harpsichord design, influenced by organists. Why use an instrument showcasing the late stage of harpsichord development with a piece written around 1720?
That detail aside, would Bach have given up the opportunity to realize his showpiece on an instrument with a 16’ register, with the ability to infuse the piece with new and interesting timbres? That’s what Alard does. He slows things down nearly half-way through the track, exploring the instrument’s colors. He does a good job of differentiating the runs that seem to clearly articulate notes before speeding to nearly smear the notes, as if Bach, while playing, has a paintbrush in his mouth, swiping in the air as colorful light emanates from this magic brush! My own fantasy aside, I like the variety in articulation he achieves. However I’m not as pleased with the feeling that some of the piece’s energy had its gas let out before we move onto the fugue.
Alard’s fugue starts strong and quick; his fingers throw a little more flair into the air, perhaps, than Suzuki’s. The octave support from the 16’ strings brings some grandeur to the fugue. The overall sound, however, of this recording isn’t the most ideal; I like that we are closer with less reverb, but maybe not close enough? Even so, this performance is worth your time for Alard’s tempo not to mention the special sound of this instrument.
Gulda (9:22)
Among the achievements of Bach recordings, I always hold Friedrich Gulda’s WTC I/II in highest regard. The pianist was not immune to the culture of the 1960s. In his recording presented on SWR>>Music, we get a recital made in Stuttgart on amplified clavichord! The instrument’s timbre is bizarre, for sure, but once you acclimate to it, it’s easy to notice Gulda’s own virtuosity and the appropriateness of an instrument that can change with a bit of vibrato on held notes. I’m not as big a fan of this effect on faster passing notes, but sometimes he lands on a note and then pressed down to give us that effect, which just sounds right.
The recording has good dynamic range and the remastering process I think gives us a legitimately clear recording. Sure, you may forget at times that it’s being realized on an electrified clavichord, thinking you’re listening to a rocker on his guitar. But what could be more appropriate? This music is evidence of Bach rocking it out. Gulda pushes through some of the descending material near the end of the Fantasia where Alard, I think, runs out of gas.
Gulda seems to match Alard’s speed for the fugue, if not pushing even harder. Some of his ornaments aren’t as clean. Hearing the fugue fly by this quickly is a rush; maybe too fast for the learned in the audience to appreciate how Bach is applying his contrapuntal muscles? Nevertheless it showcases the benefit of smaller, shorter keys. Love how he renders the ending!
Prego (11:31)
Igancio Prego’s recording from 2013 on Verso is rendered on harpsichord (phew!). The balance of close miking and reverb for me is on good balance in this recording. He performs on a copy of a Blanchet/Taskin instrument. It’s not as attractive as the instrument used by Suzuki, nor as colorful as the one used by Alard. But its lower register has a good weight to it, in the way Gulda’s clavichord missed.
I found the opening Fantasia to be disappointing, it’s as if it lacked the virtuosic flair that the piece demands. This is in part because of the chosen tempo but also the performance just feels a bit too carefully constructed.
The fugue is more successful. His performance is less flamboyant than Alard’s, less rhythmically-sure than Suzuki’s. However the chosen tempo and the recording quality lay bare Bach’s contrapuntal art in a very direct and clear way. While conservative in approach, this performance for me showcases that it was clearly written for harpsichord. Bach’s writing comes out so clearly. The balance is clear. He did well with the confines of such an instrument.
Berben (11:19)
Léon Berben’s recording on myrios classics is a hotter recording (sound is louder) but no booklet was available for me to know which instrument he uses (it’s clearly a two manual instrument). Like Alard does in sections, he blurs the notes in the start of the Fantasia. The different approaches to articulation makes his performance, like Alard’s, more interesting. I think Berben’s blood runs hotter than Alard,’s however, he’s a bit more daring in his rhetorical approach to things. The sound in this recording is the best yet.
While Berben’s instrument is clearly not the three-manual Haas, he does attempt to use all of his instrument’s timberal effects. I am not sure I like the use of the muted stop; like Alard, his stops in the second half of the Fantasia before all the descending material seems to let too much energy out of the piece. I’d have liked to have heard it push ahead without all the stops to change the keyboards or registrations. He thankfully saves the Fantasia by the end, getting the maximum volume from the instrument.
Berben makes up for lost time by pushing the fugue’s gas pedal. It’s technically very tight, and his variation of execution of trills is exciting. His strong execution of the fugue kept me on the edge of my seat the entire time. What a strong command of his fingers! Again, he introduces variation in articulation that is breathtakingly delicious. Doubling the octave near the end of the fugue? Oh yes. The fugue doesn’t get better than this.
Denk (11:55)
Jeremy Denk’s performance comes from his album entitled c.1300-c.2000. The recording features a closely-miked Steinway and man, what an intimate recording! I feel as if I am actually seated at the keyboard. While mechanical sounds are pretty absent, you can feel the mechanical component of the instrument. Kudos to his engineer, Adam Abeshouse.
As a pianist, Denk can conjure effects unavailable to the harpsichord (or clavichord). Sustain, for one. I appreciate that he’s wiling to use these effects, including pedal. In the Fantasia, he indulges in some visages of romantic piano playing, but overall, his approach is to keep the piece dry by not overusing the pedal. The percussive voicing of his piano I think is delicious in some of the runs, whereby we almost get that quality of a plucked instrument. Denk is a highly intelligent player, it’s obvious his interpretation was well-conceived to stand on its own; his treatment of some of the material with sustain and reduced dynamics are an effect that I think musically works, but otherwise is robbed from those using an historical instrument.
He too plays with articulation variances in the fugue. He’s nearly playing with a little dance in the fugue’s opening, which I found charming. The lightness takes the seriousness of a fugue from us, instead showcasing the inherent playfulness of Bach’s development. His control is brought to light as he changes the dynamics, rendering Bach’s voices in light and shadows. Just as I thought Berben’s playing was top-level expert playing, so too is Denk’s although to different results using different kinds of expertise. The variation in Denk’s dynamics make me think of what Alard was attempting to achieve with the Haas harpsichord; the result on Denk’s recording is the more rewarding.
Conclusion
I wanted to highlight this piece and showcase what fun it can be to take an afternoon (or evening) getting to know one piece through the luxury of multiple interpretations. Such an endeavor does seem luxurious, as in expensive, for us to have three, four, or more recordings of the same piece. Of course, if your collection rivals 1,000 discs or you use streaming, we have that luxury before us, no?
I think we learn as much about Bach’s virtuosity in comparing recordings as we do about the virtuosity of these performers. I did not highlight these in any comprehensive fashion, suggesting these are the “best” recordings of BWV 903; but they do illustrate some of the things I listen for in recordings: how the instrument is captured, how the instrument is used to its fullest effect; how performers distinguish their interpretations.
I invite you to do with with any piece you choose; but in this case, maybe I’ve inspired you to (re)visit one of Bach’s most outwardly virtuosic pieces, one for which must have granted him much admiration in his own time as it does with us, today.
