Die Kunst der Fuge seems to have become one of those works
for which a certain section of today’s musicians rub their
hands and say, ‘let’s make an arrangement’.
I have nothing against a decent ‘working up’ of this
music, the score of which is a four-stave affair with no instrumentation
given at all, thus inviting all kinds of opportunities for the
quartet fraternity - from string to saxophone. One of my favourite ‘authentic’ versions
is the lively recording by Reinhard Goebel’s Musica Antiqua
Köln on Archiv. This SACD organ recording falls somewhere
between the effect of this, and the rather dry 1977 organ version
by Herbert Tachezi on Telefunken’s ‘Das Alte Werk’ series
- now reissued on Teldec. I still find this latter recording
a rather dutiful listen, though it was a pioneering interpretation
at the time. My interest in Bengt Tribukait’s recording
was partly to see if an organ version of this late masterpiece
of J.S. Bach could be made into more than merely an intellectual
exercise, and I am pleased to say my hopes have largely been
realised.
One selling point for this recording is that it is played on
an organ from Bach’s time, the 1728 Johan Niclas Cahman
organ in the Church of Leufsta Bruk in Sweden. Hans Fagius has
contributed an interesting history of the instrument in the booklet,
and after the all too common story of neglect and insensitive
restoration the organ was finally re-inaugurated in 2006 after
having been returned to its original condition as much as possible.
The size of the instrument is remarkable given the relative scale
of the building in which it is housed. This is a potential problem
for recording, as such an instrument would be more familiar in
the richer and more generous acoustic of a cathedral. True, the
resonance is not huge, but this suits the complexity of the music,
and only when played
ff does the sound become a little
heavy, for instance in
Contrapunctus VI. Even here the
balance is good enough, but my ears felt a little more distance
from the mid range and a little more volume of air to help the
lower registers would have turned good sound into one amidst
ideal circumstances. Returning to the subject of booklet content,
we can also read some of Bengt Tribukait’s personal connection
to this music, and his ideas on some of the symbolism in Bach’s
score. This is an intriguing field, and one which we can only
hope not one which is about to be taken too seriously by Dan
Brown. Tribukait makes a case for the number symbolism in some
of the
Contrapuncti, and plays with the idea that the
introduction of the B-A-C-H theme is “the composer’s
personal confession of his sins.” This may or may not have
been the Bach’s intention, but in any case, the ultimate
argument is that which brings this fascinating music to life,
and Bengt Tribukait’s performance does this very convincingly
indeed.
Dipping into the tracks from almost a random point, and you might
like to sample the delights of
Contrapunctus IX, whose
running double fugue becomes a playful, almost dancing movement
under Tribukait’s fingers. The mellow character of the
organ is expressed in the following double fugue
Contrapunctus
X, where the little chuffing articulations of some of the
pipes and colour of their tone are something a like a chorus
of human voices.
Contrapunctus XI, mentioned as a possible
reference to sin or hell in the symbolism of the number II, is
given more penetrating registers, the chromatic figures raising
tension or being driven home like screws into a coffin. I particularly
like the
inversus of
Contrapunctus XII, and the
playing does not disappoint here, with a restrained but effective
layering of the expressive melodic material. Tribukait once again
shows his ability to create a deliciously light dancing mood
on the organ in the gigue rhythm of
Contrapunctus XIII,
and this mood is extended in a delightful
Canon alla ottava.
There is plenty of variety in colour in the movements throughout
this interpretation of
BWV 1080, and I never found myself
becoming bored. Tribukait brings the texture down to an almost
minimal
ppp in the penultimate
Canon per augmentionem
in contrario motu, creating a special space around the final
Fuga
a 3 soggetti. This was of course famously left unfinished
at the time of Bach’s death, and no attempt has been made
to construct an artificial conclusion in this version - we are
literally left hanging. The notes of B-A-C-H are left as a potent
message in the air, and with no extra chorale to provide a consoling
finish this is as striking a statement as one could make in these
uncertain times.
This is a fine recording of J.S. Bach’s
Die Kunst der
Fuge and not only ticks all the boxes in terms of authentic
instrument and accurate and musical performance, but also goes
the extra mile in terms of imagination and colour. The added
bonus of SACD is nice, but I found this recording perfectly acceptable
in plain stereo. As mentioned before, the space for the recording
is not vast, and so the sense of volume isn’t so much increased
as enhanced by surround sound, with the feel of the organ as
an instrument with power in reserve more obvious. The recording
is not so close that there is much leaping around between pipes
in disparate locations, though this is no doubt also part of
the character of the instrument. I can’t say I know a better
version of this piece played on organ, and a warm recommendation
is all that remains to be given.
Dominy Clements
Bengt Tribukait (organ) 
[78:22] 
