Category: A Well-Tempered Project

Now here is a P&F I know well, and have taught several times, and have extensive notes not only from teaching but also a master class in which a student played.  It’s a grand selection for students setting out on the Well Tempered Clavier: bravura and exciting (and important-sounding) without being too difficult, not a bad key signature, 3 voice fugue with clear sections, and neither prelude nor fugue exceeds two pages.  A gift from Bach to your student!  Pictured is the opening measures of the prelude with years of scrawled notes competing for the music notes.  One really nice thing to point out to students (and ourselves in a quiet moment): Prelude’s measures 11 and 12 have a descending scalar passage that begins in C harmonic minor, then passes into C major, then C natural minor, and finally (breaking the rule of what melodic minor is) C melodic minor with the lowered sixth and seventh in the descending pattern (it’s the ascending pattern when we play scales, but then, who is going to wake up JSB and correct him).  Fun to hear, fun to play, fun to understand.  Cheers.

The Prelude and Fugue no. 22 in Bb minor, WTCI, is a real favorite of mine and, by extension, many of my students.  There is some powerful pondering here in the brief, two-page prelude and two-page fugue, both written to benefit from a slow, thoughtful tempo.  Remarkably, the fugue packs five voices into only 75 measures, and concludes at measure 67 with the subject appearing in all five voices within a mere six measures — an indication that Bach wrote a subject that can withstand such condensation, and also that he could fit it together so tightly.  In fact “tight” was one student’s summary of this fugue.  Another student entered a theme festival with this fugue; the theme of the festival required each student to write a brief, 23 or so word description, story, or rumination about their piece, and this student wrote succinctly, “I hear voices” — still one of my favorite epigrams for thinking about fugues.

Today I start the Well Tempered Clavier Book II, written some twenty years after the first book, and possessing an entirely different spirit.  The first book ends with such keen foresight into music of the twentieth century, but what makes the second book so unique is a romantic quality that I find hard to describe adequately.  Maybe during this discipline of playing and writing, I’ll find the description I want for this book.  Today’s P&F in C major, BWV 870, is a joyful romp.   The fugue is absolutely standard to Bach’s form, but just so playful, and an ear worm at that.  I’ll be hearing this in my head for days.

I am writing today’s post at the piano, because after mentally struggling through this C minor fugue, I don’t have the energy to go to a desk and I feel the need to see the piano keys to write.  Why is this fugue so hard?  One answer could be that with our umpteenth day of rainy dark weather, one finds many things difficult.  Another is that C minor is a relatively easy key, but in keeping with my theory regarding Bach’s Hard-Key Easy-Fugue and vice versa, this fugue was a bear.  I find it hard to hear where it’s going, with sharp key turns that are not set up with obvious leading notes or chords.  It ends on a minor chord (many of Bach’s minor pieces end with a “picardy third” into the parallel (or same-key) major for the last chord).  The prelude wasn’t easy either, but most of that was a fingering issue, not complexity.  Setting up the heavy minor of the fugue, the prelude also ended on a minor chord — a dark piece, for a dark day.

Here remains a prelude that I still prefer to it’s fugue, even in my contrapuntally-biased old age.  How I love this prelude!  I’ve taught it to a couple of wonderfully talented students, both of whom struggled with the voicing — a delicate, fluttering affair of great beauty, easily squashed by heavy, un-careful playing.  Which line to bring out:  the after-beat top voice?  the on-the-beat and weightier bass note? the last note of the middle wiggly part?  I vary the voicing by measure almost, trying to find something that constantly tickles the ear into the “ooohhhhmmm” qualities of this wondrous piece.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the fugue, and much to love — but it is overshadowed by the spectacular prelude which concludes by breaking into an exciting “alleluia” — or at least, that’s my opinion, man.

I think the finest version of this prelude (and its fugue) I have heard was recorded by my friend, Stephen Prutsman.  Tragically, you must buy his album — from him, personally — to hear it, which is a travesty.  The image above is of his album of the WTCII, which has kept me company across many road trips  through the Midwest.  Someday his recording of the WTCII will be ubiquitous, and righteousness will rain down like manna upon us all.  In the meantime, Edwin Fischer played  this Prelude and Fugue superbly back in the 40s, and you can YouTube his recording easily.

Perversely, I read through this Prelude on August 3 — on schedule — but due to the sheer enjoyment I get from playing it, I just now (on the 6th) realize I didn’t blog about it!  Happily I can make WordPress think I wrote this on August 3rd, and keep the WTC II in order.

Today’s P&F no. 4 in c# minor, BWV 873, is a long meditation, challenging once more my wandering thoughts to return to the music found in front of me and emanating from beneath my fingers.  Fortunately for my mind’s concentration, there are plenty of e sharps, f double sharps, a and b sharps (on rising, melodic minor) to keep my mind back on the subject.  The fugue is only three voices, but a meaty subject of 22 notes all in sixteenths, and the time signature is 12/16, and the subject has two sharps, so no focus problems here.  In fact, I was kept rapt as I played the thing at an unrecommended tempo for sight reading, holding on as if riding a bucking bronco.  It’s summer, and my attention has a way of wandering off to never-neverland, and I’m grateful for the discipline on these pages.

August 5: A former piano student played the organ at church, so it was an early morning.  Then, choir folders needed their music switched for the upcoming season, a set of rehearsal tracks needed recording, a choir schedule needed typing, and of course, our annual potluck choir rehearsal was this evening so I also had to cook food to take to the host’s house and run the rehearsal.  Today’s cheerful P&F in D major reflects the hurry of the day, with rising sixteenth notes followed by eighth note triplets, four pages of running, followed by a fugue subject with an insistent repeating note that is densely patterned throughout.  It was nice to get lost in this, and to enjoy the elegant simplicity of a Bach resolution at the end of all the effort.  If only life imitated art.

Thank goodness for a P&F I know well, No. 6 in D Minor.  It’s interesting to me that D minor is a popular P&F for students regardless whether they are playing out of WTCI or II — both are attainable and enjoyable.  What I notice to my chagrin is that I get stuck and have to slow down at the exact same points my students must slow down.  This is humbling, and perhaps good for one’s soul, if not one’s ego.

This P&F in Eb Major, (BWV 876, WTCII) is yet another joy to work through.  Notably, JSB adds some of his Suspensions in this prelude, non-harmonic tones that are written in this case as grace notes, which carry the melody of the previous measure forward some undetermined period of time, and then resolve off the beat onto the new note supplemented with the new chord.  This moment of delayed gratification at the beginning of two of the first four measures sets up our ears to relish the anticipated harmony.  In fact, I find it hard not to call them Anticipations, but that’s a slightly different type of non-harmonic tone — a different story entirely.

My thoughts regarding Easy-Key Hard-Fugue went out the window again today, along with my confidence in reading Bach.  Six sharps — and written in minor, to boot; more 32nd notes and double sharps that I can keep up with; seemingly pages and pages of notes; and the fugue in four voices.  Worse, it was a busy day, so no time to re-play anything and try to make it palatable.  This is the first time during this summer’s WTC Project that I have followed up by listening to a great pianist play the P&F — to see what the heck it’s supposed to sound like.  Of course I turned to my friend Stephen Prutsman’s recording of the WTCII (again I regret that it is not available on Amazon), and voila! — oh so THAT’S how it’s supposed to sound.  If this were 18th century Germany, and I was reading alone in my parlor, I would not be able to tap the skill of a great pianist on my stereo or even phone.  But then, I wouldn’t be blogging about my experience, either, so maybe I would have the time to play it several times.  Hmm.  The luddite piano teacher needs to meditate on this.

It’s hot, and I appreciate the coolness of this P&F in E major from WTCII.  The first thing that strikes me as I play through it is the presentation of sonata form, which I’ve given little thought to until now.  When did Bach start presenting music in what would become sonata form?  On July 31 I wrote about the forward-looking features of both the last Prelude and the Fugue of WTCI in B minor.  I missed the fact that Prelude No. 24 WTCI is written in two sections, with complete cadences and repeat signs, the first section ending in the dominant key (F# major), the second section beginning in F# minor (still the v, although minor) and ending appropriately back in the tonic of B minor.  This overall I-V-I quality, with definite markers in the center like cadences and repeat signs, marks the sonata form.  I’ve read that Bach can be considered the “father” of sonata form.  What didn’t this guy accomplish?

I do believe that the Fugue no. 10 in e minor, BWV 879, WTCII, has a whopping 48 note subject spanning 7 measures.  It just keeps going and going.  This is a 3 voice fugue (thank goodness it’s not more!) and of course takes 4 pages to play because each iteration takes MEASURES to get through.  And the Prelude?  Two parts, first part’s cadence ending on the dominant.  Somewhere between today and the end of this project, I am going to count how many times JSB puts the Prelude into an early sonata form in WTCII.  Already at least three times, yet WTCI only had this feature in the last prelude of the set of 24.

Back on July 11, I wrote that I could hardly wait for August 11, when P&F no. 11 in F Major WTCII would come up on my list, and today it came around.  What a gorgeous Prelude, with its supreme difficulty of holding down some of the descending notes, which result in a chord in so many of the measures.  What would JSB have been thinking about when he wrote such a romantic prelude?  His wife?  A particularly golden sunlit day, and musical birdsongs on his way into the cathedral that day?  The piece feels like an “exhale.”  The three voice energetic fugue is nice, also, and is the only counter I can imagine to this luxurious prelude.

Welcome to BWV 881, F minor from WTCII.  In WTCII, both the F major and F minor P&F’s are a couple of gems.  This P&F in particular looks forward to the classical era; I think Mozart must have been channeling Bach in his Sonata in F major K. 332.  The use of sequence, especially in the fugue, is perfect.  The prelude has such a strong, mysterious character.  In spite of the four flats, this is accessible sight reading.  Give it a play through; you’ll be delighted.

The photo above is also about Bach in F minor, albeit 857 from WTCI.  I had the pleasure of hearing this recently graduated student play the WTCI F minor Prelude today at my church’s organ. She was the paid substitute organist for much of the summer.  It’s very rewarding to go to church and hear the organ as you get out of your car and think, “that’s my protégé!”  The priest gave her a blessing for heading off to college next week.  A sweet moment for all of us.

It’s the F# Major P&F of the WTCII, and once again JSB is showcasing a favorite feature of mine that appears repeatedly in WTCII — sequence.  The Prelude is a light, delicate piece, seemingly with wings that let this music lift and hover off the ground.  Once finished counting (fiercely) and contending with plenty of sharps and double sharps, one begins the Fugue, which I find hard to perceive until it becomes complete with all three voices, and then it gels into a significant statement, decorated with those beautiful sequences.  Lots of work to play, and completely worth it.

One may ask, understandably, if I’m really playing each and every one of these P&F’s this summer.  Yes, I am; every note, every sharp and double sharp, every trill.  Just not every tie.  Oh, how I wish I were a good enough sight reader to get the ties as well, but so many of them are dropped before their time, some are repeated upon the concluding note of the tie, oof!  The beauty of Bach so often is deepened by the proper observation of the ties, and I cringe every time I notice I’m blowing them off.  (Some legalese for my students: you are not allowed ever to blow off any of your ties in your pieces!)

Case in point is today, August 14, with the P&F no. 14 in F# minor, BWV 883.  There are plenty of ties in the prelude, amongst the other rhythmic challenges of this beautiful, difficult piece (quads, triplets, duples, syncopations, sometimes all in one measure and underscored with, of course, a surreptitious tie).  But the fugue!  A double fugue by my count, three voices, four pages, and the subject is a rhythmic challenge/delight starting on rests, entering on “and” with eighths and immediately a TIE to the next measure’s “and” of 1 on sixteenths followed by another TIE mid measure followed by ANOTHER TIE into the next measure and resolving with a half note trill.  If you are still counting effectively by then, you are good.  It’s all countered with a second subject of two solid measures of sixteenths!  How does it sound?  Unforgettable and energizing, resolving to an ambiguous and perfect unison on the tonic.  Youtube it; it is wonderful.

Within a few short measures, the G Major P&F from WTCII leaps with exuberance from the static page into your soul.  I wrote of a prelude in WTCI that put me in mind of Hanon. Today’s prelude has unmistakable exercise qualities, but elevated into the heavenly stratosphere by JSB. The fugue would also make a fine technical study if one weren’t humming along and becoming emotionally engaged in the glory of this uplifting P&F.  Next time I feel in need of Hanon, I will come here first.

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In December 1990, a film winged its way to me through the Ozark atmosphere to my parents’ house in a village in Southwest Missouri during a winter break from my Peabody education.  It was a documentary of the 1990 Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow, directed by Bill Fertik, and featuring two of my Peabody classmates; Kevin Kenner (who took 3rd in the Piano Competition) and Stephen Prutsman (who took fourth, but was the audience favorite).  I knew the documentary was going to be released that day on PBS, and I made a contraband copy of it on my parents’ VCR which included the terrible fidelity of the long-distance Arkansas Public Television over-the-air broadcast.  Snowy and discolored is one word to describe the results, nearly un-viewable is another.  Regardless, I kept this tape for years, showing it to my students for Movie Nights, not only because of the presence of my colleagues, but also the images from the crumbling Soviet Union and the immediate aftermath.  Five years ago, I found Bill Fertik’s email address online and wrote him; he actually answered and gave me the link to his Vimeo channel and instructed me how to download a digital copy, suitable for burning to DVD.  What a gift!  The snowy, crazy-striped videotape is gone, and beautiful digital images of that documentary now appear on my TV.  The above image is taken from the film.

At the beginning of the documentary, a pianist describes the scene where all 118 initial piano contestants must play the same Prelude and Fugue to start the competition: “Round One, all together now, let’s see what happens.”  As it happens, the Prelude and Fugue is today’s Prelude and Fugue.   And then you watch, in tranches, many of those 118 pianists playing this Fugue as if as one.  It is a riveting beginning to a spellbinding documentary.  You can watch the documentary here.

The Prelude in Ab Major from WTCII is another of my favorites — what a happy, content piece, strolling its way through several related and perhaps unrelated keys.  The fugue, however, is a bear.  Beautiful, yes, but wow, and especially if you play it early in the morning before your coffee as I did today.  There are measures where I swear Mr. Bach drags me through three modulations, while my brain tries desperately to resolve where we are going.  Sight reading is a combination of excellent visual-spatial skills combined with complete understanding of syntax — you can guess where the composer is going and partially play by “ear” (even though you may not have heard it before).  I cannot guess where JSB is going through much of this fugue.  It’s delightful and maddening at the same time, a puzzle.  Or, maybe, it’s just the lack of caffeine.

Another P&F that I adore but can barely read through: the P&F in G# minor, WTCII. What skill Bach displayed in layering sequences and modulations and themes in a sonata form, and keeping the listener (or reader in today’s case) spellbound. I am frustrated only in my inability to accommodate the key signature and the modulated double sharps instantly. The fugue is a grand, masterful statement in three voices, four pages. I find it nearly easier to read than the prelude.

I am staying today with a dear friend, and playing on her beautiful old Steinway A, from her Henle edition of WTCII, where (happily) she has lightly penciled in some of the more challenging sustained accidentals. And some fingerings. And arrows to the fugue subject statements. What a delight.

BWV 888, the P&F in A major for WTCII, got played today after a six-hour drive and was not absorbed as well as I would like.  Still, there is the steady pleasure of feeling the moving voices under my fingers, the satisfaction of resolving the harmonies, counting the rhythms and observing the fingerings. I hope those reading these posts are poking through these magnificent little pieces, too.

I just noticed that all the P&F’s for WTC I & II have BWV numbers in the 800s.  How have I missed this little detail?  It means that today’s P&F is the only one in the Well Tempered Clavier that has three repeated numbers — 888.  BWV stands for Bach Werke Verzeichnis — Bach Works Catalogue.  An organized person named Wolfgang Schmieder put the catalogue together in the 1950s.  Perhaps “Wolfgang Schmieder Day” is in order to celebrate the BWV, so helpful for keeping all us Bach fans straight.
 

The first thing that came to my mind today:  Which is the fugue? The theme of the prelude, or the fugue proper?  Today’s prelude sounds for all the world like a fugue, but the eighth note stepwise accompaniment is too stable to make this a proper counterpoint.  Still, there is inversion of the theme, passing the theme between voices, and playing it in different keys.  Perhaps JSB thought to himself, “yeah, close to a fugue but no cigar; let’s make it a prelude.”  And the chromaticism — fasten your seatbelts.  It appears to end the first section in the dominant, in order to render this early sonata form, but my ear isn’t sure that the midpoint really gets all the way to E.  The fugue continues to mess with us — the subject stops after four notes, only to take off double speed with the same idea before it veers into what I call filler material — where does the subject end?  One has to see how he “ends” the subject in other voices to form an opinion on what is subject and what isn’t.  I think an “easy” key of A minor (no flats no sharps) encouraged JSB to pull our tails.

Mr. Bach must have been thinking about a fugue from the previous WTCI (no. 14 in f# minor) when he wrote today’s fugue in Bb Major (no. 21) for the WTCII.  The subject of today’s fugue includes a descending repeated note pattern for a couple of measures (circled in the uppermost score in the image), which is featured very similarly in the earlier fugue (circled in the lower score) although not as the subject, but the countersubject.  Did he think about this countersubject for twenty years between the two books, and finally decide it was time to make that lovely line a proper subject?

It’s mysterious to me that every time I play today’s P&F in Bb, it’s as though I’ve never heard nor played it before — it just doesn’t stay with me, whereas once I hear or play the F# Minor P&F from WTCI, I can’t get it out of my head for days.  I feel a little sheepish admitting such a strong preference for certain P&F’s, but there it is.  Some summer of the future I will play today’s P&F and say to myself, “Ah!  This one!  I remember it!.”  I hope.

I just finished playing the P&F no. 22 in Bb minor, BWV 891, from WTCII.  Readers may recall that I adore the P&F no. 22 in Bb minor from WTCI.

Not so much 22 from WTCII.  Is it Bach or is it me?  (Maybe don’t answer that.)  These are two long pieces — both the prelude and the fugue are four pages, and they go on.  And on.  I can’t catch the musical idea.  Where is the compelling line?  Why don’t I remember anyone playing this, including me?  By the time I pulled into the ending — which nicely stated the subject neatly in all four voices in four measures (see the similar feat in 22 from WTCI, but in five voices, and written so tenderly and affectingly) –thinking, yes, but what?  Where did this prelude and/or fugue take me?

Why didn’t Bach just stand up and say, whoa, enough of that one, let’s go have lunch.

Today’s post is the welcome B major P&F no. 23 after yesterday’s slog through no. 22.  The delightful and easily understandable Prelude is followed by the fugue’s wild subject — the craziest I can recall JSB writing.  It seems he was investigating the limits of a fugue’s subject for development.  This subject, marked in the score above, stretches an octave, outlines an unusually complex harmony, and bounces within the octave like a hyper two-year-old.  The result is that when new statements of the subject come up against countersubjects, they cross each other repeatedly, and before the fourth voice is introduced you already have a real puzzle on your hands.  Which note goes with which line?   What happened to the subject?  And which note am I supposed to be holding for a duration?  Reading through this will keep your mind off the unpleasant subjects which seem to fill the corners of modern life;  mastering it would be a serious task.

Today is the last day of this blog and my 8th annual journey through Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier Books I & II.  I began Book I on July 1, and finished on July 31; I began Book II on August 1 and played through without break, finishing the 24th Prelude and Fugue in B minor today, August 24, 2018.  And what a conclusion: Bach invents a fandango-like line which develops into a rich, meaty Prelude.  With dramatic pauses and themes that walk and turn in counterpoint, this Prelude tells a story that keeps the listener/player rapt, ending darkly but energetically in the minor. The Fugue subject is forthright with powerful octave punctuations, reiterated clearly throughout. Bach muses into harmonies that would be plumbed by Beethoven a century later, and drives into the most definitive and powerful ending of WTCI&II.  That last D#, powering the final chord into major after a suspension, is an explosive statement.  You feel it in your whole body, a fitting conclusion for the titanic two-book collection.  It makes me reflect that I sell my summer short when I change the playing order to entertain myself.  The most magnificent journey begins with P&F I WTCI and ends with P&F XIV WTCII.

I blogged some questions over the summer that deserve answers.  For what did Bach write Book I?  It was the world’s best infomercial, in this case to promote a new keyboard tuning (well-tempered tuning) that allowed multiple unrelated keys to be played without re-tuning.  (For what did he write book 2?  I don’t know. Maybe it was better than doing the morning crossword.)  How many Preludes in Book 2 are based on a sonata form?  Ten.  (Only the last prelude of Book 1 is in this form.)  How does WTCII vary in nature from WTCI?  I find WTCII to have more craft in the preludes; they take on a more personal, story-telling quality; they ascend to a higher art form than the already excellent preludes in WTCI.

I have not promoted this blog in the normal venues for blog writers.  I slipped it into my website without telling people about it.  I haven’t created a Twitter or Facebook account to link to the blog.  I wrote it for two reasons. One was to give the thoughts that come to me each summer on this Bach journey a place to live.  The other, bigger reason is for my students, should you ever stumble into this blog.  I want you to know how deeply this music affects me and my life, how seriously I consider this music to benefit my mind, heart and soul, and, importantly, how profoundly I think it will benefit yours.

I wrote this blog for you.

Love,

Miss Helen