Harpsichord Notes: Well-Tempered Clavier CDs

A member of The Diapason’s 20 Under 30 Class of 2021, Curtis Pavey is a graduate of the doctoral program at the University of Cincinnati where he studied harpsichord under Michael Unger and piano under James Tocco. In fall 2023, he will be the assistant professor of piano pedagogy and performance at the University of Missouri. More information is available at curtispavey.com.

Fischer: Eight Suites of 1698, Colin Booth - harpsichords. Soundboard, SBCD-222, $16.98. Available from ravencd.com and colinbooth.co.uk. 

Harpsichordist Colin Booth’s latest recording focuses on the music of German composer Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer’s (1656–1746) suites from 1698 published as Musikalisches Blumen-Büschlein. The recording, finished in August 2021, appears to be the only available complete recording of this collection, offering listeners an excellent opportunity to hear this music in its entirety. 

Fischer’s Musikalisches Blumen-Büschlein was originally published as Les pièces de clavessin in 1696, but Fischer enlarged and revised it, and it was published again in 1698 under the new title. The work contains eight suites that comprise a variety of different dances. Each suite opens with a praeludium unique and stylistically different from the others, similar to Bach’s partitas. The ensuing set of dances in each suite differs greatly, and most do not contain the traditional “core movements” (allemande, courante, sarabande, and gigue) as mentioned in the CD liner notes. Booth believes that Fischer’s collection functions as a “survey” of contemporary French dance suites, which allows listeners and performers to become familiar with genres such as plainte (lament), variation sets, branle, and other dance types. 

In his detailed liner notes, Booth discusses Fischer’s life and works and additionally how these works influenced other German composers of the time, namely J. S. Bach, G. F. Handel, and Johann Mattheson. Several of Fischer’s preludes contain textures that Bach borrowed for his Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I, and it is clear that Bach was quite familiar with this set. Suite VI is perhaps the most interesting of the collection, containing the largest praeludium of the entire collection, which Bach later used in his first B-flat-major prelude. The influence of Fischer’s work on Handel is also apparent in this work, given Handel’s later use of the variation form in his suites, in addition to the fact that Handel’s suites are also inconsistent with the types of dances included in each suite. 

Booth recorded this collection on two different instruments from his workshop. The first instrument is a seventeenth-century Italian harpsichord that includes a short-octave bass. Both harpsichords are strung in brass, but the Italian harpsichord is tuned at A = 392 in Werckmeister III. The other harpsichord, a French double manual based on an instrument from 1661, provides a slight tonal contrast. In the liner notes, Booth clarifies the need for a short-octave bass given that the first and sixth suites in the collection require its use; however, he also wanted the additional registration benefits of the double-manual harpsichord.

Throughout the recording, Booth’s performance is strong, and each suite sounds unique from the others. Booth used a variety of registrations and frequently added ornamentation to the repeats of dances. Each dance is infused with character and careful attention to details. The disc includes many highlights; among them are the large “Praeludium” from Suite VI, the deeply pensive “Plainte” from Suite VII, and the rigorous “Chaconne” from Suite VIII. Perhaps most impressive, though, is Booth’s handling of Suite V, which contains an aria with eight variations. Booth performs this suite with varied approaches to articulation, dialogue between the different voices, and a clear arch to unite the whole suite as a singular work.

For those unfamiliar with Fischer’s music, this disc serves as an excellent introduction to his first collection of harpsichord suites. Booth performs Fischer’s harpsichord suites in a convincing manner that helps connect stylistic elements from France to the harpsichord literature of the eighteenth century.

Mattheson: The Melodious Talking Fingers and Harmony's Monument

Johann Mattheson: The Melodious Talking Fingers (Die Wohlklingende Fingersprache), Colin Booth, harpsichordist. Soundboard, SBCD-220, $16.98.

Johann Mattheson: Harmony’s Monument (Harmonisches Denckmahl), The Twelve Suites of 1714, Colin Booth, harpsichordist. Soundboard, SBCD-208 (2 CDs), $16.98. Both available from ravencd.com.

Of the memorable Baroque composers of quotable music and words, Johann Mattheson does not appear as a household name, but in his day he achieved recognition among his peers, particularly for his writings on music. Nowadays he is known both as a composer and author of theoretical works, and as the one who nearly brought an early end to the composer of The Messiah! Handel and Mattheson violently quarreled during the premiere of the latter’s opera Cleopatra, and were it not for an obtrusive coat button deflecting a sword thrust, Baroque music might have lost a significant body of music! The two later reconciled, and Mattheson dedicated his Melodious Talking Fingers to Handel. Keyboardists are fortunate enough to hear this work and Mattheson’s twelve suites in a masterful recording by harpsichordist and builder Colin Booth. His research into Mattheson’s life and music are well reflected in these two albums, which provide a window into the music of a highly instructive and colorful composer. In addition, Mr. Booth precedes this captivating repertoire with program notes that bait the listener without meaningless or uninformed conjecture.

Though different in many ways from Bach, Handel, and Telemann, Mattheson utilized many of the same musical ingredients via different tastes and yielding highly inventive and engaging flavor. The collection’s curious title perhaps hints at the occasionally capricious nature of its contents. These “technically competent fugues . . . do not sound as if written to demonstrate Mattheson’s desired contrapuntal rigor from his colleagues,” yet the contrapuntal mastery is evident. Numerous fugues consist of multiple subjects and demand considerable dexterity and singing interpretations to convey their richness. Additional pieces in this collection display grace and wit, providing even more opportunities for the player’s hands to sing and speak. Colin Booth does both. His performance shows admirable command of the fugues’ structure, yet the learned nature of the pieces yields to very characterful interpretations, from the singing quality of the fugues’ subjects to the unusual fugal characteristic of complete silence. The radiant first fugue gives way to a graceful and lyrical fifth fugue (complete with the buff stop), while the severe eighth and the triple-subject ninth receive their own creative colors, even with their austere nature. A palpable energy permeates most of the livelier fugues, and the listener is rewarded for embarking on this journey in the peaceful conclusion of the final fugue on the chorale Werde munter mein Gemüte. The dances are likewise imbued with character befitting their wit and charm, and Mr. Booth delivers a both a humorous Burla and a Seriosità whose sensitivity recalls the warmth of Couperin’s many sensuous pieces.

The twelve suites contrast enormously from those of Mattheson’s German contemporaries, as the former contain a more overt personal touch, especially in their fantastical opening movements. Their dance movements, though similar in nature, are far more adventurous in rhetoric and surprise, and Mr. Booth’s recording captures the adventurous qualities of these suites as a whole. His performance conveys the architecture of both individual dances and entire suites with the same mastery as in the fugues. His tempo choices and interpretations of character hold the suites together well, and his use of inegalité, though occasionally predictable in allemandes and courantes, imbues the dances with elegance. Gigues drive relentlessly and energetically, while their slower counterparts sway gracefully, whether sarabandes, airs, or minuets. The more fantastical movements rivet the listener in their arresting character, from the seventh’s virtuoso “Prelude” to the sixth’s suave “Prelude” to the second’s brilliant “Tocatine.” Mr. Booth seems especially committed to selling the unusual movements or those placed unusually; these stand out, especially the hilarious fugue that begins Suite No. 11 and precedes an equally outrageous gigue of an overture! The gorgeous third and sixth suites are the highlights of the album. Their soulful allemandes, energetic courantes, dulcet slow movements, and vivacious gigues show that composer of austere fugues could write absolutely beautiful dances.

As if the listener were not already in for a treat, Colin Booth’s instruments add yet another dimension of both inventiveness and craftsmanship to these albums. His 2016 restoration of the Nicolas Celini harpsichord yields a sound befitting to the speaking quality of Die Wohlklingende Fingersprache, and both instruments in the suites provide a vibrant sound for the many contrasting movements. Furthermore, Mr. Booth recently issued an edition of Fingersprache, available for purchase on his website (colinbooth.co.uk) and from Raven. All in all, these albums provide a rare opportunity to hear lesser-known and deserving repertoire played by someone committed to making its presence known and able to deliver it masterfully via both interpretation and instrument.

A member of The Diapason’s 20 Under 30 Class of 2021 (see the May 2021 issue, page 19), Curtis Pavey is a graduate of the doctoral program at the University of Cincinnati’s College-Conservatory of Music where he studied harpsichord with Michael Unger and piano with James Tocco. More information is available at curtispavey.com.

Fogliano to Froberger: A Century of Ricercars, performed by Colin Booth, harpsichord and ottavino. SBCD-221, $16.98. Available from ravencd.com and colinbooth.co.uk.

Ricerchare di Julio da Modena per musica ficta in sol per la via di G sol re ut, Julio of Modena; Ricerchare de Jacobo fogliano, Ricerchada di Jacobo fogliano do Modena, Jacobo Fogliano; Ricercar secondo, Girolamo Frescobaldi; Recercada del primo tono per b mollo, Claudio Veggio; Ricerchare de Jacobo fogliano da modena, Fogliano; Ricercar Terzo, Frescobaldi; Ricercar I, Jacob Froberger; La fugitiva Claudius a.4,
Veggio (?); Ricercar Ottavo, Obligo di non Uscir di Grado, Frescobaldi; Ricercar IV, Froberger; Ricercare di Jocobo fogliono da modena, Fogliano; Recercado per b mollo del primo tono, Veggio; Ricercar Nono, con Quattro Soggetti, Frescobaldi; Recercar del primo tono, Veggio; Ricercar V, Froberger; Recercada per b Quadro del quorto tono, Veggio; Ricercor II, Froberger; Recercada VII, Veggio (?); Recercoda per b Quadro del primo tono, Veggio.

Harpsichordist and harpsichord maker Colin Booth recently recorded a collection of ricercars from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The recording includes works of nearly forgotten sixteenth-century composers such as Giacomo Fogliano, Julio of Modena, and Claudio Veggio, as well as works of Girolamo Frescobaldi and Johann Jacob Froberger. Displaying a great variety of different characters, affects, and styles, this recording also features several of Booth’s harpsichords, creating a fascinating sonic tour of the history of the ricercar.

In his liner notes, Booth details the rich history of the ricercar, beginning with its origins as a piece originally for the lute or bass viol. The ricercars of the sixteenth century invited significant ornamentation by the performer and were freer in nature. The ricercar later developed into a stricter compositional form by the seventeenth century, allowing composers to demonstrate more complexity in counterpoint and form. To represent the early style of ricercar, Booth chose works by Giacomo Fogliano (1468–1548), his pupil Julio of Modena (1498–1561), and Claudio Veggio (ca. 1510–?), all composers of the sixteenth century from northern Italy. Their music, which exists in manuscript form at the Collegiate Church at Castell’Arquato, incorporates a wide variety of different approaches to the ricercar. To contrast this, Booth chose works of Frescobaldi and his pupil Froberger, exemplifying the radical changes to the ricercar genre and form.

For this recording, Booth used three different Italian-style keyboards including two harpsichords and an ottavino, a smaller instrument pitched an octave higher. In the liner notes of the CD, each track is labeled with the instrument that Booth used so that listeners can follow him as he alternates between the different keyboards.

The ottavino has a bright and resonant sound aided by limited damping. It is crafted after an original instrument from the seventeenth century, originally built by an anonymous builder of the time.

Besides this, Booth uses two different harpsichords. Described as a small, single-strung harpsichord, Booth’s sixteenth-century harpsichord used in this recording is pitched at A=440. The other instrument, which Booth refers to as a large double-strung harpsichord, is a seventeenth-century-style instrument with a larger compass necessary for several of the selections. The instrument is pitched lower, creating a mellower, but very sustained sound.

For more information about these instruments, listeners should view Booth’s website, which contains further information about this recording project and several YouTube videos demonstrating this music on his own instruments. The use of several very different keyboards throughout the recording varies the sound and adds to the appeal of this captivating program.

Booth’s playing is musically sensitive and compelling throughout. Claudio Veggio’s Recercada del primo tono per b mollo is played with a flowing approach to the musical lines and gestures. Booth plays Fogliano’s Ricerchare with a persuasive sense of timing, highlighting the stately aspects of the affect. Frescobaldi’s Ricercar Ottavo, Obligo di non Uscir di Grado, an eclectic piece containing no intervals of a second, is played with a probing spirit on the ottavino. While listening to Froberger’s Ricercar I, one can hear how Booth brings out the surprising intervals and shape of the subject to great effect. In Froberger’s Ricercare V, Booth demonstrates his capacity for lyrical sound, shaping the phrases with significant care. The disc also includes extended works of Frescobaldi, Froberger, and Veggio; the latter’s Recercada per b Quadro del primo tono closes the disc in dramatic, virtuosic fashion.

Listeners can expect to find a number of unfamiliar gems on this recording by Booth. His thoughtfully designed program demonstrates the vast diversity within the ricercar genre, and because of this, Booth successfully engages listeners on an exploration of this fascinating repertoire.

Colin Booth’s website: colinbooth.co.uk

Equally at home with historical keyboards and the piano, Michael Delfín is a top prizewinner of the Jurow International Harpsichord Competition and is a member of The Diapason’s 20 Under 30 Class of 2021. Based in Cincinnati, Ohio, he is artistic director of Seven Hills Baroque. Michael Delfín’s website: michaeldelfin.com

A new edition of Mattheson’s Fingersprache

Die Wohlklingende Fingersprache (The Melodious Talking-Fingers), by Johann Mattheson, edited by Colin Booth and Matthew Brown. Soundboard, 2020, 70 pages, with preface in English and German, $37.00. Available from ravencd.com.

Two years ago, the British publishing house Soundboard unveiled a new edition of Johann Mattheson’s largely neglected Die Wohlklingende Fingersprache, best translated as “The Melodious Talking Fingers.” Edited by Colin Booth and Matthew Brown, this publication presents the performer with both a clean reprint of the original 1730s text as well as a historical preface, performance practice suggestions, and critical commentary. Considering the rarity of reliable editions of this work, Soundboard’s issue is a must-have for all historical keyboardists.

German composer Johann Mattheson published the Fingersprache in two halves, in 1735 and 1737, and dedicated it to his one-time rival and subsequently colleague George Frederick Handel. The work consists of twelve fugues as well as various dances and character pieces interspersed throughout the work. A second edition followed in 1749; though merely a reissue of the original with a French title, it specifies the harpsichord as the intended medium for enjoyment. Breitkopf & Härtel presented a new edition just over two centuries later, edited by Lothar Hoffman-Erbrecht, which presented musicians with considerable errors. Booth and Brown have corrected many of these errors, and with the addition of substantial commentary, their work fulfills a need in the historical performance field, particularly in drawing attention to Mattheson’s much-neglected output.

Mattheson’s music utilizes the same vocabulary as that of his German compatriots Handel, Johann Sebastian Bach, and Georg Philipp Telemann, but he developed his own dialect through his fugal writing and often singular dances, both of which reveal a taste for harmony and phrasing bordering on idiosyncratic. The Fingersprache’s creativity in fugal writing constantly entertains the reader, who will encounter various contrapuntal games such as multiple subjects and/or countersubjects within the same fugue, choral-sounding textures thrown in between highly idiomatic keyboard writing, and a rich figural vocabulary stemming from Mattheson’s German roots. In addition, Mattheson demonstrates a thorough knowledge of other styles such as the French clavecinists in Seriosità, an allemande-like character piece, and also a learned style combined with galant virtuosity in Fugue X for three subjects. He nonetheless closes with his Germanic roots in the final fugue, which takes as its subject the chorale tune Werde munter, mein Gemüte.

Booth and Brown provide details of Mattheson’s life that allow the performer some context into the Fingersprache’s origins and transmission. Their commentary situates the collection within the world of Bach and Handel, sometimes comparing the keyboard music of the three but more commonly highlighting the singularity of Mattheson’s unique writing.

As very little performance practice exists specifically for Mattheson’s music, Booth’s brief summary of practices will serve the performer well as a starting point for further exploration. Although sources themselves are left to the performer to explore, any keyboardist who knows of Mattheson will also know of
Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach and likely Johann Kirnberger and other Germans who penned guidance for keyboardists of their day. One might also benefit from consulting Booth’s liner notes from his recent recording of the Fingersprache for a more personal take on the music (see “Harpsichord Notes,” November 2021 issue, page 11). After all, performers are the ones actually getting their hands dirty!

Also included in this publication is a critical report by Brown, complete with a statement of editorial practice. A policy of “refraining from intervention” guided the editors, and their critical report reflects this practice. They state ambiguities in the original edition, rather than merely correcting them without comment, as many twentieth-century urtext editions tended to do. The curious performer may consult the original editions on the International Music School Library Project (IMSLP, imslp.org) to verify accuracy.

Booth and Brown’s publication deserves a place in the library of any serious historical keyboardist. As original sources become more and more easily obtainable, the need for updated, clean editions requires a critical approach to editing. Keyboardists will readily appreciate this painstaking publication that brings to light a neglected yet considerable work of the High Baroque.

Colin Booth’s website: colinbooth.co.uk

Prelude to Twilight

Dark Harpsichord Music, by Colin Booth. Soundboard, SBCD 203, 2023, $16.98. Available from 
ravencd.com.

Jean-Henri D’Anglebert: Prelude in G Minor; Armand-Louis Couperin: Allemande in G Major; Johann Mattheson: Air in G Minor; Louis Couperin: Prelude in F Major; Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach: “Andante” from Sonata in F Major, W62/6; D’Anglebert: Prelude in D Minor; Johann Sebastian Bach: “Chaconne in A minor” from Violin Partita in D Minor, transcribed by Booth; François Couperin: “Prelude in A Major” from l’Art de Toucher le Clavecin; Louis Andriessen: Overture to Orpheus; Louis Couperin: Passacaille in G Minor.

This album is the replication of a program that Colin Booth presented in the Great Hall at Dartington, England, on a summer’s evening in 1995, a performance involving gradually dimmed candlelight throughout the program until only twilight remained with birdsong accompanying. With such an evocative title, one may wonder what music will unfold and how, and Mr. Booth’s compelling album invites the listener to sit with and absorb equally compelling music. As one discovers throughout this album, the moving selection of harpsichord works is never truly “dark,” i.e., without light. Rather, Booth’s own note on the Andriessen work speaks to the theme of the entire program: “exploring at length, and in a limited range of tonalities, a mood of subtly varied introspection.”

Without question the objets d’art of this album are the prelude and postlude of sounds of nature, and the improvisatory links between works complement the atmospheric approach to programming. Booth’s brief improvisatory links guide the listener through both changes of key and of nuance between the works of Mattheson and Louis Couperin, and then C. P. E. Bach, D’Anglebert, and J. S. Bach. The shortest of links is a mere five seconds and opens an unmeasured prelude in a relative minor key to the piece preceding it. The other two links are over twenty seconds and are comprised of more elaborate improvisatory material.

After an atmospheric presentation of birdsong, the first sound of the harpsichord is a D’Anglebert prélude non mesuré in G minor. Booth gently acquaints the listener with this new timbre emerging from the twilight, and his pacing is a foretaste of the sweetness to come. Armand-Louis Couperin’s “Allemande in G Major” from the 1751 Pièces de clavecin smoothly follows the D’Anglebert and graces the listener with its richness and suave character. Couperin’s exploration of the lower, richer, and indeed darker register of the harpsichord renders Booth’s selection of the work highly appropriate. A graceful “Air” from the second of Mattheson’s two suites in G minor from the 1741 publication follows. It is an ambling piece and contains a blending of French and German styles common with Mattheson’s works. Booth tastefully changes registration between a single 8′ and the lute stop. (If one listens to Booth’s other albums, one will find considerable creativity in registration.)

The grander of Louis Couperin’s two préludes non mesuré in F Major follows a brief improvisatory link, and the listener is invited to sit with a soliloquy-like statement from the pen of the first remembered Couperin. Booth’s timing in works of this genre becomes somehow predictable, especially in ornamental gestures that contain repeated notes, which come across as accents more than graceful additions to texture. In the French dance movements, one may observe a similar predictability in Booth’s inegalité, occasionally preventing one from enjoying these magnificent dances as entire structures comprising significant harmonic events and flowing passagework between them.

The linking of French claveciniste repertoire to a German Rococo sonata movement may strike the listener as odd, but the suave nature of the C. P. E. Bach “Andante” movement follows the smoothness of the Couperin prelude well. Booth’s graceful ornaments and creative fermata improvisations serve the placement of this German andante between two French claveciniste works. The subsequent D’Anglebert prelude arrests the listener with its registration and its frequently breathless pacing. The agitation Booth brings to this performance perhaps prepares the listener for the scope of the Bach “Chaconne” to come, following an appropriately solemn link. Perhaps the pièce de résistance of this album is Booth’s transcription of Bach’s monumental “Chaconne in D Minor” for solo violin, transcribed to A minor in this rendition. Booth’s performance effectively highlights the dance element to this massive work and allows the listener to follow the natural unfolding of Bach’s writing. Rather than create a virtuosic transcription à la Busoni or merely replicate the backbone of the work à la Brahms, Booth both honors and amplifies Bach’s original harmonic and motivic structure, adding material idiomatic to the harpsichord’s sound and textural capabilities while leaving the core of the work intact. Booth also utilizes his harpsichord’s registration to great effect, thus showcasing contrasting sections and highlighting the work’s structure. This is among the most engaging performances on this album and worth the lengthy listen. (Interested harpsichordists may find Booth’s transcription in the key of D minor at https://www.colinbooth.co.uk/.)

From the darkness of the chaconne’s end, a gentle glimmer of light emerges in the François Couperin “Prelude in A Major” from L’Art De Toucher Le Clavecin. Some of the Bach’s energy may have carried over into this performance, as Booth takes a little time to settle into the differing affect of the work. The only contemporary piece on the program, Overture to Orpheus, comes from the pen of Louis Andriessen, a Dutch composer recognized for his early serialism and neoclassicism, and later for his minimalism. Booth’s performance emphasizes the score’s tranquillo markings, perhaps placing the mind at ease as twilight falls. Whether the piece ponders, dances, races, or waits, it must be experienced as Andriessen himself described it, “prelude-playing.” The number of improvisation-based works on this album lead up to this one piece, which surpasses them all in length and as such must not just be listened to, but absorbed, even accepted.

The final work on the album, a gentle Passacaille in G Minor by Louis Couperin, cleanses the palate and allows the listener a final respite before a night’s rest. The sweetness of the middle G-major section in particular lifts the spirit from the darker sonorities of this album, and the final G minor seems less heavy than the solemn register of the harpsichord may indicate. The final birdsong becomes all the more meaningful. Having listened to several of Colin Booth’s albums, I can confidently state that this is my favorite so far. From start to finish, its originality engages the listener, who is transported into a mysterious twilight and beyond.

Dialogue: Bach, Buxtehude, Kathryn Cok, harpsichord. DMP Records, DVH 140431, 2022, €15. Available from dmp-records.nl.

Chromatische Fantasie und Fuge d-moll, BWV 903, Johann Sebastian Bach; Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, BuxWV 223, Dieterich Buxtehude; Fantasie und Fuge a-moll, BWV 904, Bach; Fuga in C, BuxWV 174, Buxtehude; Fuge C-dur, BWV 952, Bach; Praeludium in g, BuxWV 163, Aria: Rofilis, BuxWV 248, Buxtehude; Fuge a-moll, BWV 959, Bach; Canzona in C, BuxWV 166, Buxtehude; Präludium, Fuge, und Allegro Es-dur, BWV 998, Bach; Courante Simple in a, BuxWV 245, Buxtehude; Capriccio B-dur, BWV 992, Bach.

Dr. Kathryn Cok is a native New Yorker currently living in the Netherlands, where she completed her graduate studies and now teaches at the Royal Conservatory in The Hague. She is active as a performer and researcher and currently serves as vice president of the Historical Keyboard Society of North America. As far as I am aware, this production represents her first commercial recording of late Baroque solo keyboard repertoire.

Cok presents on this recording a very interesting collection of famous and obscure keyboard works by the two most celebrated keyboard composers of the German high Baroque. The program opens with a Bach work clearly influenced by Buxtehude and a challenge: how does one approach and perform a work so often heard and familiar as Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue? Is it even possible to bring something new to this work, studied and performed since Bach’s own time, without introducing bizarre elements (as many have tried) or otherwise deviating in significant ways from the score? In hearing the first notes, the Dutch influences in Cok’s playing are evident, particularly in the slower sections of the piece. She plays with great sensitivity, emphasizing the forward motion of the voices rather than the vertical harmonies, usually slightly delaying the upper voice. The recitativo sections are treated with subtlety and tenderness, while the rapid sections are played with flair and virtuosity. Added ornaments are always tasteful and appropriate, although her inclusion of the supertonic in the final arpeggiated tonic chord (here and elsewhere) was a fresh surprise. In short, Cok succeeds in breathing life into the work without deviating significantly from the score.

The accompanying fugue is more sedate in character, earning its epithet in the chromaticism of its theme. Bach makes extensive use of pedal points throughout the fugue in all voices. Many performers allow these extended notes to simply fade into silence or use trills to extend the pitch; Cok chooses to repeat the tied pitch at the beginning of each tied bar, sometimes alternating octaves upon repetition. Her solution keeps the harmonies active in our ears. Given these extended pedal and inverted pedal points, the parallel octave passage (pedal?) at the work’s conclusion, and other elements, I believe this work could be appropriately performed on the organ.

It is interesting that most of the Buxtehude works in the present collection have been published traditionally with the organ works and are most frequently performed on that instrument. That said, Cok makes a persuasive case for their performance on the harpsichord.

The first Buxtehude work heard, a charming setting of the chorale Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern (BuxWV 223), is one such case. It is sectional, with each line of the chorale treated in contrasting style. In performance on the organ, it is easy to facilitate these contrasts by changing manuals or registration. In this performance, the resources of the harpsichord provide the ability for similar dynamic contrasts.

The next Bach work, while similarly titled Fantasie and Fugue, could hardly be more different than the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue. The Fantasy and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 904, is a more serious and profound work, likely a product of a later time. The first movement is a prelude in fairly strict, mostly three-, although sometimes expanding to four- or five-voice counterpoint. The fugue is a splendid double fugue, with both subjects combined at the conclusion. It is a work that appeals to the mind as much as the ear and was a wise choice to show contrast with the much earlier chromatic pair. Interestingly, the second theme of this fugue is a descending chromatic line, thus an inversion of parts of the subject of the D-minor chromatic fugue.

Three other great works of Buxtehude (alternating with Bach works on the CD) are also drawn from the organ repertoire. These are the famous “Gigue” Fugue in C Major, BuxWV 174; one of the large stylus phantasticus praeludia, BuxWV 163, this one in G minor; and the lesser-known Canzona in C Major, BuxWV 166. The fugue is a rollicking delight, briskly performed by Cok. Both the G-minor praeludium and the Canzona in C are extended dramatic works in stylus phantasticus with alternating imitative contrapuntal sections and free dramatic flourishes. Cok has clearly mastered this style, performing these works in a highly improvisatory manner, with bold contrasts in registration and tempo and lavish embellishments.

Cok has included two relatively obscure Bach fugues, found among those many works buried in the appendices of the Bach Gesellschaft and mostly ignored for generations. The Fugue in C Major, BWV 952, is not a particularly interesting work in three voices. The subject is one of those instrumental-type “sewing-machine” subjects that rambles on in a sequence before finally finding an answer. The counterpoint and harmonies do suggest the work of the young Bach—indeed, the successful working out of the piece implies a somewhat later date of composition—but the lack of musical creativity suggests the work of a lesser mind, perhaps the exercise of a young student or even a youthful Bach son. The performance is quite fine, bringing as much life and interest to the work as is possible given the rather feeble source material.

The Fugue in A Minor, BWV 959, brings us into another world altogether. It is a fugue à 3 with occasional chords expanding to four voices. One immediately notices in comparison with the previous fugue the more interesting and intriguing fugue subject, ripe with possibilities. There are many “un-Bachian” elements to be found in this work, unlike the previous straightforward C-major fugue, which surprise the listener on first hearing and mark it as a product of his earliest productive years. In earlier times the authenticity of many of these early “quirky” works was questioned by scholars simply because “there’s nothing else like it in the canon.” One need only to study works such as the famous Toccata in D Minor, BWV 565, Chromatic Fantasy in D Minor, BWV 903i, Passacaglia in C Minor, BWV 582, the Pastorale in F Major, BWV 590, the Piece d’orgue, BWV 572, the canzona, the capriccios in B-flat major and E major, and many others, to realize that Bach was experimenting and often composed only one example of a form, genre, or style.

This experimentation is equally evident within works, with almost unlimited experimentation in harmony, modulations, scales, manual (and pedal) figurations, endings, etc. These striking and unusual techniques allow us to follow his compositional matriculation as they merge and evolve into more mature music.

This is a lengthy way of saying that I have no problem accepting this curious and creative work as the effort of a youthful Johann Sebastian Bach, despite its eccentricities. I do not know for certain, but I suspect it was these same quirky eccentricities that attracted Cok to this work and inspired her to this dynamic and dramatic performance, which succeeds without overemphasizing the more unconventional elements.

The two remaining works by Buxtehude included in this recording are both variation sets, published in modern editions not among the organ works, but with a collection of traditional keyboard suites presumably intended for performance on harpsichord or clavichord. Seldom performed, these suites and variations for keyboard are far less well known than are Buxtehude’s brilliant and justly acclaimed so-called “organ works” (and that’s an article for another day).

According to Emilius Bangert, publisher of the first modern edition of these suites and variations (Hansen, 1941, suites only republished by Dover), the tune Rofilis “is a melody from Lully’s Ballet de l’Impatience; it became widely known, and already in the seventeenth century was used in Denmark as a hymntune.” Without an initial statement of the unadorned tune, Buxtehude provides a set of three brief (sixteen-bars without repeats) variations in Aria: Rofilis, BuxWV 248, a work that requires subtlety rather than virtuosity. The entire work is scarcely two minutes in duration, but it is ample time to demonstrate Cok’s ease with this style. Her playing here is a fine example of pure musical poetry.

The roots of the final Buxtehude work in this collection, Courante Simple, BuxWV 245, are more shrouded in obscurity. It is immediately a larger-scaled work than Rofilis, with more variations exploring higher technical and stylistic demands. The variations tend to increase in complexity as they progress, allowing Cok to again demonstrate her subtlety, creativity, and virtuosity at the keyboard.

The final music of Johann Sebastian Bach included in this delightful collection comprises two major works, both well known. Heard first is the Prelude, Fugue, and Allegro in E-flat Major, BWV 998. This work has been a standard of the keyboard repertoire at least since Wanda Landowska recorded it on her Pleyel harpsichord in 1949, but it is actually catalogued as a “lute work” in Wolfgang Schmieder’s Bach-Werke-Verzeichnis catalog. There have always been questions about this group of so-called “lute” works, even though lutenists have played them, and guitar transcriptions and performances have been popular since the days of Andrés Segovia. The manuscript of the E-minor lute suite includes a notation at the top of the page reading aufs lautenwerk. The lautenwerk, a gut-strung keyboard instrument designed to imitate the sound of the lute, was supposedly invented by Bach himself, and his post-mortem instrument inventory suggests that he possessed two of them. Although no historical examples are known to exist, several modern instrument builders have constructed modern lautenwerke based on surviving descriptions. In style, all of the lute works are similar, typically featuring a flowing melody in one voice or two, accompanied by a walking bass line in slower notes, and/or passages of style brisé. They are seldom contrapuntally complex, with voices being fragmented even in fugues.

Under Cok’s fingers, the leisurely prelude is pure poetry. The melody sings, and there is just enough flexibility of rhythm and agogic to keep the music flowing and engaging the listener. Likewise, the fugue is brought to life in a tranquil way, allowing us to anticipate and appreciate each entry of the theme.

When the mood suddenly changes, Cok makes the shift in style without a noticeable bump. The return of the original section restores tranquility. The final “Allegro” is an outburst of joy, and Cok brings the whole work to an exciting, rollicking conclusion.

Arguably the earliest popular instrumental work by Bach is the so-called Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo Fratello dilettissimo, BWV 992 (“Capriccio on the departure of his beloved brother”), the work with which Kathryn Cok concludes her recorded performance. It was written for the occasion of his brother Johann Jakob’s departure to serve the King of Sweden. The work is in six sections, each relating in a programmatic way to the departure:

1. Arioso: Adagio, “Friends Gather and Try to Dissuade Him from Departing;”

2. (Andante), “They Picture the Dangers Which May Befall Him;”

3. Adagiosissimo (or Adagissimo), “The Friends’ Lament;”

4. (Andante con moto), capriccios “Since He Cannot Be Dissuaded, They Say Farewell;”

5. Allegro poco, “Aria of the Postilion” (Aria di postiglione);

6. “Fugue in Imitation of the Postilion’s Horn” (Fuga all’imitazione della cornetta di postiglione).

Due to the youthful genesis of the work, it lacks many elements of the style of the mature Bach. Yet it has remained a standard of the harpsichord repertoire at least since it was popularized by recordings released by both Wanda Landowska and Ralph Kirkpatrick in the late 1950s. It is easy to see how this work has far surpassed most of Bach’s early keyboard works in popularity, given its obvious charm and the documented transmitted program. Textures vary from simple figured-bass passages to full-fisted chords in some cadences. Quite a bit of ornamentation is notated in modern editions, but given the provenance of its multiple sources, it is unclear how much of it actually originates with the composer.

Like much of the music of Buxtehude and the young Bach, it requires great freedom and imagination to interpret successfully in performance. Throughout this entire program, Cok has demonstrated repeatedly that she has mastered the art of the stylus phantasticus. Her performances show thoughtfulness, creativity, subtlety, and virtuosity—all in the service of the music.

The harpsichord heard in this recording, built by Titus Crijnen in 1999, has a rich and resonant sound, superbly captured by the recording team. Kathryn Cok’s spirited and musical performances throughout this disc make recommendation easy. She is an artist of considerable skill, and this compact disc recording should only serve to further her already impressive reputation.