Bach: The Art of Fugue • Albert Cano Smit
This past year I allowed myself to try a number of recordings of Bach on the piano. While I understand that some readers may be offended by such a thing, I’ve always been fascinated by the piano, it being for me, my first instrument.
As far as I can tell, this is the debut album by Cano Smit, who upon first listen, I was pleased to find was into varying his touch and articulation with this music. It would be difficult not to point out former reviews of BWV 1080 on piano:
- Vladimir Feltsman (mini-review)
- Daniil Trifonov and Eloïse Bella Kohn (double review)
- Angela Hewitt
- Pierre-Laurent Aimard
For those who don’t like to click, I asked a GPT to summarize my approach with these reviews:
Your reviews of Bach’s The Art of Fugue performed on piano reflect a deep appreciation for the work’s complexity and the nuances each pianist brings to their interpretation. You value performances that balance technical precision with expressive depth, allowing the contrapuntal intricacies to shine while conveying the emotional weight of the compositions.
For instance, you commend Daniil Trifonov’s imaginative approach, noting his creative use of tempos, articulations, and dynamics that enhance the listening experience. In contrast, Eloïse Bella Kohn’s performance is characterized by restraint and clarity, focusing on precise articulation to highlight the counterpoint, reminiscent of András Schiff’s non-Romantic style. Angela Hewitt’s rendition is praised for its thoughtfulness and articulation, though you express a slight reservation about her tempo choice in “Contrapunctus 9 alla duodecima,” your favorite movement. Pierre-Laurent Aimard’s interpretation is described as safe and middle-of-the-road, lacking the depth and profundity you seek in this work. Vladimir Feltsman’s performance stands out for its expressive nuances and excellent technique, offering moments of fleeting brilliance that bring both smiles and appreciation.
I can’t say how musicians feel being compared to one another, but I’d bet that they’d prefer I stick to what I hear on their album and leave the others alone. But for a collector, you may well want to know what new is brought to the fore with a new recording, as I often am interested in learning.
I’ll start by mentioning the sound quality. This Aparté recording was made in Switzerland, in the auditorium of a music school. Jean-Michel Olivares mastered the album, and the liner notes indicate that a Steinway D was used. The elements that detracted from the good piano sound and I think, appropriate reverb for Cano Smit’s playing style, include a bit of harshness in some of the instrument’s higher notes. I can best describe this as a balance issue of some kind. The effect was minimized by lowering the album’s volume; but I also tried removing my computer’s digital signal processing from the equation, which I often apply to improve the frequency response of my headphones. The effect was not not minimized. I did not have time to audition this recording on my two-channel loudspeaker setup, so your milage may vary with different equipment. Finally, as I will mention below, there is a mechanical sound on this Steinway with the sustain pedal that is often audible which I think should have been addressed. Finally, in both tracks 4 and 11, I think detected the edits of two different splices being joined. While I know every take a musician makes isn’t perfect, and editing is expected, I don’t typically notice these.
The recording, in one word, which echoes the strong performance, is “refreshing.”
One of the things I admire about performances of BWV 1080—no matter the instrument(s)—is variations in tempo among the contrapuncti. In Contrapunctus 5, Cano Smit takes things a bit slower, which I think is rather nice. He is sensitive in terms of separating the voices with differences in articulation and volume. He’s also willing, we can hear in this track, to play with tempo by using rubato and volume to assist in phrasing. The effect for me sounds as if it may be leaning romantic, but I’d say that isn’t quite true. There is evidence of his feeling of the music in the way he plays, but Cano Smit’s drier touch and light use of the pedal don’t go too far afield in style better suited for Chopin or Ravel. Instead, while not an historical approach, he clearly is playing baroque music, and throughout the album, I never feel he doesn’t know that.
Some pianists exercise tight control of dynamics when playing baroque repertoire; in this case, a listen to Contrapunctus 6 makes clear that Cano Smit will use the full dynamic range of the Steinway to interpret this music. While I am not entirely sure I like this, it’s not so often done, that I find it here somewhat welcome. Someone ought to go all out. This time, it’s Cano Smit. And over time we may love him or hate him for it, but right now? I’m liking it.
Contrapunctus 2 starts strong, with hard articulation, without the rhythm taking on too much attention; Cano Smit’s small flourishes, instead, grab our attention. The use of crescendo works well, I think, in his performance of the Canon alla octava in hypodiapason. I also like how he places the canons in the overall ordering of the movements, to break things up. The style of what he adds in the second fugue come back in the 13th pair of contrapuncti.
My favorite recordings of this music are played by instrumental ensembles, where the individual lines are each rendered by their own musician. While all of these are not equal, it takes a special keyboard player to lend the same level of independence to each line. A good example of Cano Smit doing this is in track 10, Contrapunctus 8. I’d probably best summarize the approach as the voices coming together, exerting independence, getting softer together, louder together, then apart again, which makes for a pleasing texture for the listener.
In Contrapunctus 9, Cano Smit starts with good space between the notes, which I know is harder to play; when the second theme comes in, he applies a legato articulation, and the combination of the smooth and sharp is really nice. There’s something happening around 1:09 that may be a bad editing splice? The play with articulation is used again in the Canon alla duodecima in contrapunto alla quinta, track 14. Cano Smit’s use of dynamics here I like, akin to the play of shadows as the sun is obscured and by clouds and moving trees through a window. I confess, however, that the effect is less random here, making good musical sense.
Cano Smit gets away with doing what a harpsichordist cannot, in the opening of “Contrapunctus 14,” often titled as the fugue with three subjects. I don’t know if the theme and music itself warrants this slow introduction, or if it’s more reverence by the performer to acknowledge the quasi-historical significance of this movement. The slow tempo adopted, and Cano Smit’s volume and attack with the upper voice for me isn’t as convincing at this tempo; the attacks sound like isolated strikes on tubular bells, rather than connected lines. I understand his approach, again, varying dynamics and articulation to bring awareness to this line. I think the approach would have been more successful if the tempo had been swifter.
At 5:20, in the next section, Cano Smit picks up the tempo a bit, as well as the dynamics, which is not an unusual interpretive solution. With the lines he highlights dynamically, I am hearing parts of this movement in ways that I have not before, which for me personally, is novel. The overall dynamic direction I like. I also like that he doesn’t draw too much attention to the entrance of the B-flat,A, C, B-natural theme. We also don’t anticipate the abrupt ending. Even though I listened to this track multiple times, it gave me a chill when the last note is played, left ringing in the hall.
Final Thoughts
One of the tracks I did not mention above stands out in this performance, and that’s the frenetically-played third contrapunctus. It clocks in just under 1.5 minutes, but showcases for me, upon second listens to some of the piano renditions listed above, what’s special about this release.
Cano Smit comes across to me as if he’s having fun. He’s not after imitating a harpsichord (what would be better at this than, yes, a harpsichord?). He’s also not applied a single mood across this entire work. Instead, when listening to it all at once, as much as this may not have been done in Bach’s time, the piece’s common key center of D minor and the appearance of the same subject so many times isn’t at all monotonous. Instead, he treats each piece, each track, as its own miniature work. And I like that approach here.
This recording does not have my favorite “piano sound.” Hewitt recorded in a dryer acoustic, and the Feltsman I liked a lot. The DG recording by Trifonov is probably my favorite in terms of mastering and the native piano sound.
In terms of creativity, I think Feltsman deserves some credit, for inventing beyond the score. I also have to give props to the double review I did, with both pianists offering a solution to the last, unfinished fugue.
Many of these recordings reviewed earlier take a far more serious approach to interpreting this music; the recording by Trifonov may be among the most serious, but his approach also reveals a sublimely gifted musician, and especially, I think, a pianist. And that’s all good.
Cano Smit, by comparison, as mentioned above, is more playful. Track 5, the Canon per augmentationem in contrario motu is a good exemplar. Do I like the sounds that come in, as if small bits of gas are being released by some kind of pump off stage? No. (It’s the pedal mechanism on the piano.) Do I wish he used less pedal, perhaps? Maybe. But these are very small issues.
And yes, while some of the other recordings may have better a very slight edge with regards to the recorded sound, this recording benefits from a good acoustical match and a nicely toned instrument. But more than the sound, the interpretive approach pushes this toward a fine recording. This is a tremendous showing of a young artist who wanted to showcase his control alongside elements of humor, dynamic control, and his ability to articulate fugal music, differentiated by voice. While this may not be strictly piano music, the piano and its artist here adds value to Bach’s masterwork.
As is sometimes done, Cano Smit includes the so-called “deathbed chorale,” which was included in the printed edition, it’s publication overseen by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. The pianist writes that the “entire universe was slowly being revealed through the work.” I found affinity with this statement. His interpretation goes a step further by showing us the universe’s diversity. The booklet includes an essay by Hélène Cao.
