Jennifer Stinton made a considerable name for herself in the 1980s
and 90s through a considerable discography on the now defunct Collins
Classics label. Many of these excellent recordings have seen their
renaissance through labels such as Alto and Naxos, but this set of J.S.
Bach’s sonatas is brand new.
Bach’s sonatas are a sort of ‘Old Testament’ for
flautists, and there won’t be a conservatoire student who hasn’t
studied them at one time or another. We all have our ideas about how they
can and should sound, and there will no doubt be purists who will be against
putting the silvery tones of a modern flute against the antique sonorities
of harpsichord and cello continuo. I prefer to take each version on its own
merits but have to declare at this stage that I came through more or less
the same generation of students at the Royal Academy of Music as Jennifer,
so my grounding in Bach from teachers like Gareth Morris is more than likely
to be in tune with hers. This is not to say that later generations have
suddenly gone loopy and taken to performing Bach in radically different
ways, but there is something familiar about the phrasing and general aura of
these performances which resonates with the way I grew up with them.
Very nicely recorded, there are certainly no nasty surprises in any
of these performances in terms of production or performance. It’s easy
to gloss over discussion of the faster movements - after all, it’s
just a question of switching on that Baroque motor and keeping going until
you run out of notes isn’t it? Well, no, and Jennifer Stinton shows
how you can maintain musical flow and keep up a high degree of interest and
expression in even the busiest of passages. The engine is also well
maintained by harpsichordist David Wright and cellist Guy Johnston, both of
whose accompanying and
obbligato lines are performed with ideal
understated expression, forming a chamber music team with the soloist as
well as providing support for her expressive nuances. The slow movements are
of course the places where expressive playing comes to the fore and Stinton
is really rather special here, not only in her beautifully elliptical tone
and refinement of phrasing, but in communicating some of Bach’s most
luscious melodies. I always remember Gareth Morris’s amused summing-up
of his approach to these gorgeous pieces, which went something like:
“he fathered about 20 children after all, so I think we’re
allowed some sexy thoughts...” There is indeed plenty of sensuality in
movements such as the famous
Siciliana of
BWV 1031, and the
dolce is very much to the fore in the slow movements of
BWV
1030 and
1032. This is not drippy sentimentality, but red-blooded
performing with plenty of meat on the bones and I love it. Where more
stately expression is required, such as in the
Adagio of
BWV
1033 then Stinton switches to a different gear, and the contrasts of
expressive worlds between types of movement and between the various sonatas
is one of the many strengths of this recording.
Moving on to CD 2, and the opening of that most concerto-like of the
sonatas
BWV 1034 is toothsome indeed. This is very far from academic
musicianship, and if you like your Bach with plenty of zip and sap then this
is a great place to find yourself. Contrasts in the harpsichord include use
of a damper, put to fine use in the
Andante of this sonata. This is
switched off after the first section to return for the final reprise - a not
so minor detail which lends breadth to the range of timbre here and
elsewhere over the whole collection.
Are there any complaints? Not many. The final note of
BWV
1030 sags a little right at the end but that’s a very picky
comment, as is the little slip about 49 seconds into the massive final
Allegro of
BWV 1034. This funny little moment pops up again in
the same sequence at 1:58 which made me have a peek at my Henle edition just
to make sure my memory wasn’t playing tricks. Tsk tsk. We only just
make it to the end of the inversion at 3:16 and 4:31 as well, showing just
how tricky this music is even now.
The tremendous
Partita in A minor BWV 1013 for solo flute is
recorded in a different venue, and while the acoustic perspective is not
shockingly different to the accompanied sonatas the flute sound is a little
more grainy and richer in upper partials. Jennifer Stinton clearly has this
music as part of her musical DNA but she makes it sound fresh and engaging,
negotiating Bach’s ‘impossible’ first movement with
sensibly placed breaths. If I have a quibble here it is that the note at
3:30 sounds much too final, and the repeat is therefore rather unexpected.
Any other comments are questions of taste and very personal and subjective,
and the only further point I have is that I prefer a lighter playful element
to enter into parts the
Sarabande, a note of poignant reflectiveness
on times past, where Stinton keeps everything weighty and serious
throughout.
I did
review Liza Beznosiuk’s Hyperion recording of this
repertoire a while ago but this is a version played on traverso rather than
a modern flute, so I don’t consider this a fair comparison. Neither
would I go far in comparisons accompanied by
fortepiano, or those which are
not a
complete survey. There are a few versions with modern flute
accompanied by harpsichord and continuo, of which Hansgeorg
Schmeiser’s on the Nimbus label is a highly regarded example (see
review). This is a direct competitor to Stinton and her team,
but I’m not sure I would prefer it on my desert island. The Nimbus
recording is gorgeously rich, but Schmeiser’s playing is a bit too
unctuous for my taste, certainly less humanly communicative than Stinton,
and besides, they race through the
BWV 1031 Siciliana in 1:55 flat,
which is more a scramble through the bushes than an expression of pastoral
air between them.
Booklet notes by Ateş Orga are very good, winning a prize for
best use of the word ‘plutoids’ with regard to Bach’s
catalogue. It might have been nice to have a personal note from the soloist
as well but you can’t have everything. Discussions as to the merits or
otherwise of the cover image can be had elsewhere, but I prefer the
lunch-laden picture of our friendly looking trio inside the booklet.
Dominy Clements