An eminent interpreter of Vivaldi, Giuliano Carmignola has always had a great affinity with the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, as can be heard in his landmark recordings of the Violin Sonatas with Andrea Marcon (2002), the Violin Concertos with Concerto Köln (2014, Diapason d'or), and the Sonatas & Partitas (2018), which Gramophone judged to be "a first-rate choice among the recordings of these works on period instruments, despite the competition”. Carmignola’s latest project took shape during the Covid lockdowns of 2020 and offers a new and sometimes experimental reading of Bach’s Suites à Violoncello Solo senza Basso, in which he highlights new details and exalts the choreatic character and the brilliance of many of the suites’ movements.
With these words begins the first written cello method, authored by Michel Corrette and published in Paris around 1741: the cello, a bass instrument, is considered a “noble pillar of harmony”. At that time, music history was roughly in the middle of the basso continuo era, which began during Monteverdi’s lifetime with the “Seconda Pratica” and ended during Robert Schumann’s lifespan. A lot revolved around the melody of the bass line, its realisation and rendering. In Corelli’s orchestra, a large bass section comprising many instruments of different sizes, with several cellos, double basses, lutes and harpsichords, was placed just behind the concertino. Behind them were the intermediate voices, first and second violas. Only behind the latter were those who carried the melody of the upper voices, namely the violinists. Such a setting has nothing to do with today’s musical practice and sound expectations. The vast bass section determined the tempo, the character and the dynamics. Those providing the melody had to adapt; any resistance would have been pointless.
There is something both universal and essentially human about Bach’s cello suites. In spite of the similarities in their form and style, they have individual peculiarities and “personality”. It is easy to see patterns, but the music also provides wonderful opportunities for variations. Bach often has surprises up his sleeve, new perspectives that make the suites many-faceted, just like life itself.
This wild recording, the first volume of two covering all the Bach sonatas and partitas for solo violin, may well polarize listeners into attitudes of love and hate. French violinist Hélène Schmitt delivers readings of the first sonata and the first two partitas that are nowhere near the mainstream for these celebrated works, which are generally regarded as icons of Bach's intellectual accomplishment and have been subjected to all kinds of numerological analysis.