The first movement
of J. C. Bach’s Symphony in E flat,
Op. 6 No. 2 might come as something
of a surprise if you are expecting the
‘London’ Bach at his sunniest. It begins
with an Adagio that can best be described
as ‘tentative’ – in fact it goes a long
way to explaining the structure of this
disc, for it sounds like a curious mix
between J. C. and C. P. E. Bach. J.
C.’s Op. 6 was written for the series
of subscription concerts he founded
with Carl Friedrich Abel. Interestingly
Peter Wollny’s booklet note questions
the authorship of this work – perhaps
with justification, going on aural evidence
alone. The energetic Allegro molto second
movement is more like the J. C. Bach
we all know and love – jubilant and
bursting with life, it is given an involving
performance here, robust from all departments
and with positively brazen brass.
The ‘modernist’ side
of the composer (whosoever he may be)
surfaces again in the Allegretto, with
its pizzicato-obsession. The dramatic
gestures of the Minuet and Trio (prefaced
by a very audible sniff from Mai – not
the only occurrence of this habit!)
point to a music of contrasts; the finale
Presto acts as a breath of fresh air,
hustling and bustling away.
The G minor Symphony
(Op. 6 No. 6) is of overtly ‘Sturm und
Drang’ bent. The first movement is highly
dramatic, with a prevalence of string
tremolandi and frequent explosive
fortes. The writing for low horns
adds real depth (not to mention menace)
to the sound. This dynamism is to find
its logical conclusion in outright aggression
in the finale (making the very conclusion
– I won’t spoil it – all the more surprising
and effective). The Andante più
tosto adagio, the most extended movement
of the entire disc (8’34) with its expressive,
sighing arpeggios, forms effective contrast.
There is a real feeling of shape in
this performance, just as there is fire
to the Allegro molto finale.
The Harpsichord Concerto
in B flat is one of six published in
1777. The vivacious first movement carries
the weight of the argument, prefiguring
the Classical concerto model in its
working of themes. Raphael Alpermann
is the sensitive (especially in the
second movement) soloist, his passage-work
ever spot-on. He can also be playful
when required though. The finale is
a set of variations on the Scottish
folksong, ‘The Yellow-hair’d Laddie’
that includes some glittering finger-work
along the way.
C. P E. Bach’s Flute
Concerto was, until recently, known
in its incarnation for harpsichord.
The work also appears on Feinstein’s
excellent Black Box disc, along with
two other flute concertos by this composer
(review).
If anything, Huntgeburth and the Berlin
group are even more impressive than
Feinstein. The Berliners play robustly
(indeed at the outset of the finale,
so much so one wonders how any solo
flute can hope to match them!); dynamic
terracing is really quite cheeky. Huntgeburth
copes well with the tricky ornamentation
though some may find his tone over-breathy.
It is the middle movement (‘Un poco
andante’) that is the expressive summit
of the piece, exploring wide emotive
territory (the stabbing orchestral chords
around 3’50ff are really quite
shocking).
A real success here,
then, from all angles. The recording
is exemplary, the performances ever
involving. Strongly recommended. Just
one small point – why does the cover
only give ‘J. C. Bach Symphonies &
Concertos’ and omit any mention of the
fascinating C. P. E. Bach concerto?.
Colin Clarke
Raphael Alpermann (harpsichord); Christoph
Huntgeburth (flute) 