Prior to his appointment in Leipzig as the Thomaskantor, Bach had changed a number of jobs. Normally, he had left a post when something better (in terms of salary and/or musical quality) was at hand, but occasionally the relationships between him and his employers had become so strained as to discourage his permanence in a given situation. In late 1717, when the composer was in his early thirties, he was appointed as Konzertmeister at the court orchestra of Leopold, the Prince of Anhalt-Cöthen.
The Prince was a Calvinist: consequently, the need for elaborated church music was nil at his court, but this did not prevent him from being particularly fond of music in se. Interestingly, therefore, the largest and most significant component of Bach’s instrumental output dates from the Cöthen years. But while the dates are certain as concerns some milestones of Bach’s oeuvre (such as, for example, the Well-Tempered Clavier, dated 1722 by Bach himself on the autograph’s titlepage), on other occasions there is room for debate. This applies to several of the works recorded in this Da Vinci Classics album. Indeed, in some cases, it is not only the work’s composition date to be disputed, but even its authorship, as we will shortly see.
This does not detract from the absolute beauty and refinement of all works recorded here, which bear witness to the relatively recent mania for the transverse flute, which had conquered Germany in the early eighteenth century. Indeed, up to the time of his appointment in Cöthen, Bach seems to have been interested rather in the recorder than in the transverse flute. The Damascus moment for the latter instrument is generally thought to coincide with his visit to Dresden in 1717, and the possibility he had there to listen to a great performer of this instrument.
Certainly, during his appointment in Cöthen Bach did explore the potential of the transverse flute, and would quickly master all of its resources, both technical and expressive, creating magnificent works for this instrument. He would employ the transverse flute as a solo orchestral instrument (for instance, in the superb Overture/Orchestral Suite no. 2, or as a concertante instrument in countless arias from his later Cantatas and Passions), as a solo instrument with (and even without) accompaniment, and as an appreciated chamber music partner. Indeed, his Partita in A minor for unaccompanied solo flute is considered as a pioneering example of this genre, and as a ground-breaking artistic realisation.
On the other hand, only occasionally are Bach’s works for the transverse flute uniquely playable on this instrument. It is an established fact that, from the one side, Bach put into relief the distinctive traits of all instruments he was writing for; but, from the other, this only rarely bound his compositions to a particular instrumental combination. He was the first to create countless arrangements and transcriptions of his works, and, in the following years and centuries, many more musicians understood that his music preserved its beauty even when its instrumental destination was changed. In particular, there was a certain flexibility and interchangeability between the flute and other “melodic” instruments: if this is not exceedingly surprising when the other viable instrument is the violin, it becomes much more unusual when the flute either replaces, or is replaced by, the viola da gamba, which has an utterly different texture and range.
For instance, this flexibility is demonstrated by the fate of what we now know as Bach’s BWV 1027. This work was restructured in at least three versions: one for two transverse flutes and continuo (now indicated as BWV 1039), one for “harpsichord and gamba”, and finally one for pedal-organ or -harpsichord (this latter version is probably spurious, though originating from Bach’s circle).
The sources of this work allow us to date it to the late Leipzig period (1740s), but this does not rule out the (likely) possibility that the Leipzig works be in turn the elaboration of earlier compositions. In Cöthen, Bach had certainly been stimulated to consider the potential of the viola da gamba by the presence of the famed virtuoso Christian Ferdinand Abel, though arguably the version for two transverse flutes predates that for gamba. However, recent scholarship tends to propose a late dating for this Sonata, and to ascribe it to the Leipzig years. It is a work in the traditional Church Sonata form: this implies a four-movement articulation, with the usual alternation slow/quick/slow/quick in the movements’ order and the elaborate polyphonic writing in the fugato finale. Indeed, the contrapuntal texture is rich and complex throughout the work, which therefore definitely belongs in the ranks of the pieces with concertante harpsichord rather than in those for solo instrument with continuo.
Problems arise also when considering Flute Sonata in G minor BWV 1020, whose authorship is far from univocally established. Consensus now seems to gather around the figure of Bach’s son, Carl Philipp Emanuel, but other attributions are still being discussed. Even the instrumental destination of this piece is controversial, since it is indicated for the violin with obbligato harpsichord, and of course it can be played with great satisfaction on the violin. However, playing it on the transverse flute seems to be more reasonable, since, oddly, the violin’s fourth string would remain silent throughout the performance, while the piece’s range corresponds more closely to that of the flute.
In this case, the compositional scheme is that of the Italian chamber sonata (in three movements, with the outer two being lively and briskly paced, and the middle movement slow and meditative). Italianate traits are found throughout the piece, and particularly in the last movement, which seems to draw many lessons from Vivaldi’s music. Certainly, the result is a very charming and brilliant, with a fascinating combination of dazzling and contemplative elements.
Dating doubts also involve B-minor Sonata BWV 1030. Initially assigned to Cöthen (but it is still possible that an earlier version in G-minor did originate in Cöthen), it is now generally thought to have originated in Leipzig. Indeed, if the Cöthen court provided ceaseless stimuli to Bach’s creativity in terms of instrumental music, Leipzig was no less attractive. In particular, in Leipzig Bach could count on a plethora of young musicians (among whom his best pupils and his sons) who were glad to participate in the soirees of the Collegium Musicum, which took place at the Cafè Zimmermann. Among such musicians was certainly one of Bach’s children, Johann Gottfried Bernhard (1715-1739), who was a skilled flutist and might have encouraged his father to write for his instrument. The balance between flute and harpsichord is complex in this Sonata. For instance, the first movement reproduces the structure of the solo concerto: the flute is treated as a solo instrument, and the harpsichord’s interventions are shaped on the ritornello technique of the coeval concertos. A similar contrast between protagonist and background is found in the delightful slow movement. However, the remainder of the Sonata attributes a fully-fledged concertante role to the harpsichord too, and the piece effectively turns into something in the genre of a Triosonata. Still, the overall impression is that of a comparatively relaxed composition, which does not despise some traits of the new styles which would supplant the Baroque polyphonic rigour in the subsequent years.
Not even BWV 1031 stands clear of scholarly debates. In this case, an alternative authorship has been suggested, again by Carl Philipp Emanuel, though currently scholars tend to consider it as Johann Sebastian’s work. Another possible candidate for its authorship has been individuated in Johann Joachim Quantz, probably the greatest flutist of the era and the author of a fundamental treatise on flute playing and performance in general. Though there are similarities between this Sonata and an earlier composition by Quantz (QV2:18), the most likely hypothesis is that Bach took inspiration from his colleague’s work and its structure, but still investing his own creativity in full in its composition.
The centrepiece of the Sonata is certainly its enchanted and enchanting Siciliano, the central movement, with its exquisite melody and its nostalgic, melancholic style. It is written in a key which is rather common for Sicilianos (in G minor), but which is unexpected within an E-flat major Sonata. Still, the return of E-flat after the touching Siciliano further enhances the impression of being “back to life”, with the virtuosity and utter excitement of the concluding Allegro.
Once more, we do not know with any certainty when BWV 1032 was written, but, in this case, the choice seems to be among a narrower field of possibilities. The terminus ante quem is 1736, corresponding to the manuscript’s explicit declaration. This autograph is the only preserved original source, and it was fortuitously recovered in an antique shop in Breslau. Thence it was moved to Berlin, to Cracow, and back to Berlin again. Unfortunately, it lacks about 46 bars in the first movement, which were cut out from the score and have been lost. Here too the slow movement’s key is unexpected (A minor), but the major mode returns triumphantly in the complex imitative Finale.
By employing the organ rather than the harpsichord throughout this CD, these well-known works acquire a novel inspiration; the unique blending of two instruments which have a similar principle in the production of sound but an entirely different technique confers both unity and variety to the performance.
Together, and in spite of the many doubts concerning their creation and composition, these works represent an astonishingly beautiful itinerary within the transverse flute’s “voice”, which resounds in its fullest palette: from joy to pain, from excitement to melancholia, from enthusiasm to elegy.
Chiara Bertoglio © 2022
Johann Sebastian Bach: Flute Sonatas with Obbligato Organ
