Performing regularly throughout the world as a soloist, chamber musician, recording artist and teacher, British cellist Colin Carr is a frequent guest at the world’s leading concert halls and festivals. He counts Maurice Gendron and William Pleeth amongst his teachers. In May 2012 he retruned to Wigmore Hall to record Bach’s cello suites, true masterworks regarded as the pinnacle of the repertoire for the instrument. Demonstrating his great technical prowess and mastery, Carr searched deep beneath the richly detailed surface of the six suites and explored their inner workings with great style. His meditative performance and profoundly personal communion with the works of Bach are captured within this recording.
In the '80s there were those listeners who thought that Heinrich Schiff might redeem cello performance practice from fatal beauty and lethal elegance. Aside from the burly and brawny Rostropovich, more and more cellists were advocating a performance style whose ideals were perfect intonation and graceful phrasing. In some repertoire, say, Fauré, these are perfectly legitimate goals. In other repertoire, Beethoven and Brahms, say, it is a terrible mistake. In Bach's Cello Suites, as the fay and fragile Yo-Yo Ma recordings make clear, it was a terminal mistake. Not so in Schiff's magnificently muscular 1984 recordings of the suites: Schiff's rhythms, his tempos, his tone, his intonation, and especially his interpretations were anything but fay or fragile. In Schiff's performance, Bach's Cello Suites are not the neurasthenic music of a composer supine with dread and despair in the dark midnight of the soul, but the forceful music of a mature composer in full control of himself and his music.
"Bach is immortal," writes Isang Enders in the foreword to his new CD of the six Suites for solo cello. "They say that Bach is the beginning and the end of all things, immortal, incomprehensible and even holy." Given this enormous challenge, no musician can be blamed for being plagued by doubts when approaching works of such calibre. And yet: "Bach's music is so human and thus always contemporary and pure. The suites should speak, they should sing and dance, hunt and contemplate – altogether subjectively and characteristically, now that I have overcome my doubts. The subjective aspect of this recording is the result of my firm conviction." These are the words of a young cellist, a high‐flyer, who led the cello section at the Dresden Staatskapelle when he was only twenty, then gave it up for a solo career. That is really all we need say; it is what marks out the Bach playing of Isang Enders from all the competing interpretations. Youthful vigour, consummate technique and a deep understanding of the works make for a perfect combination of head, heart and soul.
“Rostropovich's performances are masterly and all-involving, drawing distinctions between each work in his spoken introductions, although one can choose to hear the music without the commentaries. Unsurpassed and unsurpassable.” (The Penguin Guide)
From the irresitably forceful opening bars of the English Suite's prelude to the throbbing repeated octaves of the D minor concerto, Richter shows why many of Bach's works are ideally suited to the piano. The Bach concerto is often regarded as a student piece, or relegated to refined performances on the harpsichord. Not here – the bookend movements are as maniacal, pulsing and driving as the best of John Coltrane or Prokofiev. The CD is worth it just for those movements, but Richter's treatment of the English Suite is equally enlightening, especially the Prelude and Gavotte.
Experience, virtuosity and individuality are all required when tackling J.S. Bach’s popular cello suites; Richard Tunnicliffe brings a lifetime of insight to his debut solo recording. Richard has made a special study of Bach's cello suites and his performances of all six have been acclaimed in Europe and Australia as well as at numerous venues in Great Britain, including Wigmore Hall and the Purcell Room in London.
C.P.E. Bach would undoubtedly rejoice, were he alive, upon hearing this album of his cello concertos by Truls Mørk and Les Violons du Roy under the direction of Bernard Labadie. From the opening notes, one cannot help but feel the orchestra is fantastic. The A major Cello Concerto begins with vigor and liveliness, with the ensemble playing perfectly together in tempo with great spirit. Mørk plays just as well, with a clean, accurate, and somewhat light touch.
Above all, Fournier's Bach playing is crowned with an eloquence, a lyricism and a grasp both of the formal and stylistic content of the music which will not easily be matched. Curiously, perhaps, it is the baroque cellist, Anner Bylsma on RCA who often provides close parallels with Fournier. Bylsma's tempos tend to be faster than those of Fournier—that, after all has been a trend in baroque music over the past 20 years or so—but his conception of the music shares ground with that of Fournier. All things considered, it is hardly surprising that these readings seem as fresh and as valid today as they did 25 or more years ago.