Richard Egarr contributes the thoughtful notes to this set, attempting to justify his “one person to a part” approach by referring to these pieces as “chamber music”. So let’s get one thing straight: they are not chamber music, at least not to the extent that this is an argument in favor of small forces. What then, are Bach’s Violin Sonatas: orchestral works? Egarr’s approach makes perfect sense in the strings-only third and sixth concertos, but it’s much less justifiable in the larger works: Nos. 1, 2, 4, and 5, with multiple soloists (including winds and brass). Here, the presence of a full-bodied tutti only highlights more effectively the contrast between solo and orchestral episodes and encourages a wider range of dynamic shading (those “terraced” dynamics can be even more “terraced”). These are musical facts that can’t be avoided.
The difficulties in realizing this approach are only exaggerated by using period forces: horns alternately blaring and watery (Concerto No. 1), recorders that tend to get lost in the shuffle (No. 4), and as is so often the case, an overly prominent and excessively elaborate keyboard continuo (played by Egarr himself) that tends to turn all of these works, and not just the Fifth Concerto, into harpsichord concertos. Ironically, one of the nicest touches is also (as Egarr admits) one of the least scholarly: the presence of the theorbo among the continuo instruments. Its harp-like sonority lends the oboe solo in the second movement of the First concerto an amazingly luscious, Borodin-like sound that’s quite unforgettable, one that fans of this music will undoubtedly relish.
Indeed, however, much as I may question the basic approach, there’s no question that these are very well thought-out, intelligent realizations of Egarr’s concept. Contrapuntal textures remain amazingly clear, even in the very busy allegros of the First concerto and the always difficult-to-realize “low” sonorities of the Sixth. Tempos are similarly well-judged to provide what you might call a certain relaxed joyfulness, particularly in the opening allegros of Nos. 1, 4, and 5. Egarr shapes the big cadenza in No. 5’s first movement very effectively, with an exciting build to the finish, and the trumpet in No. 2 is very well balanced against the larger ensemble (the low pitch certainly helps). Egarr’s argument for not interpolating a cadenza, or even an entire movement, between the Third concerto’s two movements also strikes me as musically quite justifiable and sensible.
In other words, these performances have many virtues despite my reservations about the “concept”. Indeed, Egarr’s approach is so refreshingly undogmatic in many respects that it’s all the more disappointing that he couldn’t have shown similar flexibility with respect to the “chamber music” issue, and taken more of a back seat at the harpsichord. If these two issues don’t bother you, or if you agree with Egarr wholeheartedly, then I can recommend this set with confidence. The sonics, whether in regular stereo or multi-channel formats, also complement the interpretations, being very clean and clear. This is a distinctive release, then, but with a little effort it could have been better still. [3/16/2009]
