Being uncertain - if not highly sceptical - of the existence of the technical word "fuguistical", we did a quick search on Google. But, to our amazement, although it had never heard of it it asked us "Do you mean logistical?". We were perfectly confident, knowing the exactitude of Mr Grew (intermixed with his poetic flair) that he was here inventing a perfectly sound word that, although new to us, communicated the sense of logical perfection that we normally (and habitually) associate automatically with the Fugues of Bach. This observation was then confirmed by Mr Grew's own technical analysis of the main ingredients that are announced from the outset (and one might have been forgiven, we feel, had one assumed that these were the very words of Tovey, again seamlessly asserting their intellectual logic in an outpouring of wisdom at once both deep and (yet) slithy).


But we are far less convinced by Tovey's own real thoughts upon the existence (within the recension) of the C-natural he (very wisely, if again rather slithily) rejects. "Put a full sharp in front of it" we cry! Only a complete fool, we feel, could possibly contemplate the phrase in question without that C# (whether or not any pundit whatsoever might mount even the slightest or the greatest slithy argument against it!).


Hans and Gustav seem fine to us, although we prefer the musical poetry of Gustav as opposed to the Teutonic heaviness of Hans. But what of the mystery "Englishman of the present day" we wonder? Well we have to say that we do not care much for him! Only an Englishman for sure could possibly be so infatuated with the jangling sound of those bells (and we recall this long tradition among Englishmen, starting with Purcell and his infamous "Bell" anthem, stretching right through to Britten and his setting of Owen's "What passing bells", and even culminating with the Belles of St. Trinians!). Only a true crackpot - in every conceivable sense of the word - could possibly make the double mistake of a) using bells at all, and then b) playing trills and other silly ornaments upon them. Which part of the ether, we wonder, preserved this barbarism?


...and we do not suppose Mr Grew would either.

Baz

It is a little-known fact that Bach gave a subtitle to this D major Prelude from his second Book; he called it "The Demented Trumpeter." To-day for the first time Members may hear the piece performed as the composer conceived it. (Rapid-share / send-space) Incidentally the dotted notes here are all played as printed.

As comparison we turn once again to Wanda in a fine performance.

We are all familiar are not we with that particularly British legion of philosophers who pass through life in a permanent state of puzzlement. Well to-day - for a moment at least - we find ourselves joining them. How many more "wrong notes" that is to say are yet we wonder to be discovered in Bach's autographs?

The name Bach originally gave to this work was "Beethoven's Fifth Symphony," but after making a few adjustments to the rhythm he changed his mind and called it "Fugue in D Major" instead. It has appeared once already in this thread, in connection with Mozart's arrangement of it for string quartet (message 140), and that there attracted in reply a masterly performance by a Member of this group; but because of its beauty - it is one of the best in the series - we repeat it here in its proper place and hope all Members who "take the plunge" again will enjoy it. (Rapid-share or send-space.) We half expect the lady Members - and even some gentlemen - to swoon at the loveliness of it all.

Riemann - as well as confirming the Beethoven connection - calls this Fugue "pithy, and full of quiet determination." The opening is interesting because quite some time elapses before we realize we are in D major does it not. What Tovey calls the "startling stretto" in bars twenty-seven and twenty-eight is very much in the style of the mature Schönberg - his fourth quartet for example. Tovey also draws our attention to the fact that a certain "smooth figure" is repeated at least one hundred and three times and possibly even one hundred and thirteen times in the course of these two pages of music. And - staying with Tovey - he has taught us a new word! It is "stentato," useful in "big climaxes" he says.

Let us as comparison offer Samuel another hearing. We suspect he might do well with this work full of grandeur beauty and subtlety. . . . Well! He is certainly interesting, but is not the speed rather too variable, and what can that strange slight sound really be which we hear half-way through?

To-day's piece is may we say an example of "Bach round the bend": the Prelude in D minor from "Book II" - as Tovey does not tell us the title-page of this collection has long been lost so it may have borne an appellation entirely other and not have been intended to be "Well-Tempered" at all (rapid-share / send-space).

At first we wished to present for comparison Glenn's rendition, imagining he would be as speedy as we have heard him be elsewhere; but we were disappointed! He was considerably slower and sedater, yet his demi-semi-quavers remain indistinct. Wanda was a little faster than Glenn, but we did not achieve full satisfaction until we considered Samuel's performance. Although his demi-semi-quavers too are weak and there are masses of rubato he takes exactly the same time as our anonymous crackpot! It is most interesting though the way he picks out little tunes of his own here and there by emphasizing quite unexpected notes; the best example of this is near the end. Really one could find any melody at all in Bach by bringing out the notes one wanted to hear and playing the others very softly if at all. Does that not remind us of silly old Schönberg's plan of first constructing his melody and of then throwing the notes left over out of his "row" any old way into an "accompaniment"?

Let us finally remind Members of a further interpretation heard here in this thread just the other day; it contains excellent if slowish demi-semi-quavers and was evidently done by a member of the Salvation Army inspired to use the rattling of almost-full money-tins as a musique-concrète "backing."

For sheer verve joie-de-vivre and virtuosity. (Remember these works are for the use and edification of youthful students.) Because it is possible. And as training for all those runs in the keyboard concerti. . . .

The Member questions the need for speed. Well there is no need to take it from us, or even from Donald ("the flow is torrential"); take it from Vit - from Vit Roubicek renowned the world over for the quality of his liner notes!

"If one divides the preludes of this collection's first set schematically into harmonic and contrapuntal, then the original, introductory function will turn out to be proper to compositions centred around harmonic resolution of the kind familiar from the popular C major prelude, as well as from those in C minor, D major, D minor, F sharp major, G major, and B flat major. These numbers attest to Bach's didactic intention: namely, after the Inventions to carry on, up to the highest degrees of virtuosity, with the element of technique being assigned a truly substantial part here."

Our emphasis. All this holds also for the D minor prelude of the second set does not it.

. . . And we venture after all to add a little more from Tovey: "These demi-semi-quavers are no more melodic than the arpeggios they fill out. They constitute a brilliant instrumental effect producible on the piano-forte, as on the clavichord and harpsichord, by fingers lifted high and sharply withdrawn; an action possible in the most rapid tempo, so that here these demi-semi-quavers are no warning signal against break-neck speed."

Who knows whether or not it does? Indeed, who knows whether Mr Roubicek knows - what he says above seems to me like a classic case of slithiness. What does any of it mean we wonder? Since all the pieces combine the harmonic with the contrapuntal, where does one draw the dividing line? And anyway this tells us nothing whatsoever about TEMPO. If some pieces reach "the highest degree of virtuosity" then that we think is a quality embedded within the music, and not merely something a performer conveys from an otherwise placid notation.


Why should the element of "break-neck" coexist with the concept of "Bach" at all, we ask ourselves. If Bach took risks they were, we believe, carefully-calculated ones in which nothing was left to "chance".

Never mind the demisemiquavers, we still prefer to savour all the semiquavers.

Baz

P.S. The name "Roubicek" is not one that we have often encountered in our journey through Bach scholarship. "Does he really exist?" we cry! If he does then why can we not find him amongst the "experts"?