'According to my opinion,' writes Leibniz, 'the same force and vigour remains always in the world and only passes from one part of matter to another agreeably to the laws of nature.' It is hard to think of a quotation which better sums up the work of JS Bach, who today celebrates his 337th birthday. By turns joyous, serene, menacing and grave, but always dignified and beautifully structured, the great German's work, above all his counterpoint, have left a lasting legacy upon which the entirety of classical music as we know it arguably rests. Millions have sat in silence as voice bows under voice, instrument imitates instrument, and melodies rise to and fall from prominence according to the whims of the performer, in the kind of heartwarming relay-race, the handing on of a torch, which is represented by counterpoint.
So today, to mark Bach's 337th, I thought I'd offer my favourite pieces from him.
Art of Fugue
I have a distant memory of listening, many years ago, to the first few minutes of this monumental work, and deciding [shudder] that it was too boring (I later learnt, to my relief, that it was the first impression it made on even Angela Hewitt). In what would prove to be one of the best decisions I ever made, I came back to it during lockdown, curious to explore the heavier side of Bach. It blew my socks off. This was music of endurance- that grave, bare opening, like the scattering of seeds- the dignified layering of voice after voice, in wonderfully organic fashion- unhurried, exhaustive, labouring doggedly onwards right to the premature death of Contrapunctus 14.
There is no recording of the work which quite satisfies me in its entirety, but Gould's 1957 recording of Contrapunctus 1 is transcendental, Joanna MacGregor's recording of the 2nd Contrapunctus is daringly jazzy, and Pierre-Laurent Aimard's Contrapunctus 14 is somehow both brutal and detached, scientific.
2. Solo from Brandenburg 5
The most famous moment in this concerto- when the orchestra drop out instrument by instrument, leaving the keyboard in a concentrated wash of fantasy lasting about three minutes. Combing literature, only Whitman comes close when he describes the ‘open mouth of my soul uttering gladness.’ The clip of harpsichordist Karl Richter attacking it with Hendrix-like aggression has been viewed over half a million times on YouTube. Canadian pianist Glenn Gould couldn’t play it without gyrating madly on his chair. It’s been played all sorts of ways- blazingly, rapturously, crisply, silkily- by all sorts of soloists, but never sounds anything but satisfying.
3. Goldberg Variations
Yeah, yeah, cliche alert. But what's not to love in this serene, uplifting jewel, and who hasn't cried a little at the simple symmetry, the homecoming, when Bach restates the aria at the end? There are a range of lovely recordings; take your pick.
4. D minor violin partita
One of the most moving soliloquies ever written. Yes, a great deal is made of the chaconne, and rightly so, but the opening Allemande is equally terrific- a single, serious line of thought, elegantly and warmly traced.
5. "Jauchzet, Frohlocket!"
The thunderingly joyous opening chorus of Bach's Christmas Oratario, inevitably prompting 10 minutes of vigorous air-conducting.
Bonus: not quite in my top 5 Bach works, but still worthy of a little more love than they usually get:
Cantata 103- I have a soft spot for the chattering piccolo, which, bizarrely, always reminds me of the Little Einsteins.
Vergnuegte Ruh- tranquil and consoling, sung beautifully here by Jakub Józef Orliński.
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