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Kathryn October 17, 2010

Part I: Suite No 1 in G; No 4 in E flat

Music At Oxford chose a lovely venue to stage Bach’s six suites for cello. St. Barnabas church, tucked away in the back streets of Jericho, is a feast for the eyes just as Bach’s cello suites are a feast for the ears. The programme gives a detailed description of this beautiful and unusual church which was hosting a MAO concert for the second time.

Bach’s cello suites are a must for every aspiring cellist; apparently we are lucky to have them as so much of Bach’s music disappeared when he died. Happily these suites were preserved and form a part of most cellists’ repertoire. The suites follow a pattern – Prelude, Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, then either Menuet, Gavotte or Bourée before finishing with a Gigue. These are all dances and the different rhythms dance across the strings of the cello, although it is hard to believe that the sarabande was once considered so erotic that it was banned.

Suite no. 1 is like an introduction to all the others, the music flowing smoothly from one dance to another. Suite no. 4, technically the most difficult of all the suites, portrays much more contrast between the different dances and a much wider emotional range.

Playing these suites is for a cellist what playing Hamlet is to a male actor: sometime in his career it has to be done and the delivery of “To be or not to be” will be compared to many others who have said those famous words. Raphael Wallfisch has nothing to fear. His apparently effortless performance of these cello suites on his 250-year-old cello was as astonishing as it was delightful. We are lucky to have Music at Oxford bringing such great players to perform here.

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Jen Pawsey October 17, 2010

Part II: No 5 in C minor; No 6 in D; No 2 in D minor; No 3 in C

I was very puzzled at the start of this concert. Here was clearly a talented cellist, pronounced a leader in his field by much more eminent people than me, and yet his cello wasn't singing. A couple of notes just sounded duff and the lovely resonant low note that ends so many phrases in these Suites conjured foghorn rather than bell. Could a man really come to such prominence on the strength of his lovely flowing fast passages alone?

And then, after a short interval, Wallfisch returned to the stage with his cello tuned as normal, and the singing resonance was back. It was a great relief! The program notes, which are as ever well researched and worth reading, explains that the A string has to be tuned down to a G, changing the tone quality. It also ads that the cello as we know it did not exist when Bach wrote this music. How extraordinary, that he had never heard the instrument it is so well suited for.

The last two suites felt like welcome ground for Wallfisch - he played them as if he loved them. The D minor (No. 2) was tortured and Holmesian, and No. 3 a really good choice to finish on, joyous and rich. I love the feeling that these are part dance - which would originally have meant a very strict tempo and rhythm - the dancers wouldn't thank musicians for playing fast and loose with the beat. But at the same time the music is also really free, expressive in a way that the best jazz composers would recognise.

It's impressive how different the Suites are, while sounding very much like a set, perhaps due partly to the set form, and I guess that is the joy of hearing them together rather than individually scattered in concerts padded out with Elgar. We forget in these days of CDs how Herculaean a task it is to take on, playing all these, live, alone.

St Barnabas is a very grand church, and a spectacular backdrop. But it also manages to create an intimate-feeling venue for the audience, with perfect acoustics. The audience was pleasingly large, and one man had brought a score. I watched him, amazed that anyone should want to come to a concert and do the hard work themselves. Personally I was delighted to leave all that to Raphael Wallfisch.

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