Flesh and Spirit, Part 2
The Musical Embodiment of Theology in Bach’s Lost D-minor Violin Concerto
September 02, 2010
Part 1
Having undertaken a brief introduction to the relationship between Bach’s faith and his compositional practice, I’d like to turn our attention toward a very interesting case study that exemplifies both Bach’s passion for the purity of God’s Word as well as the composer’s techniques of communicating an extra-musical message through a musical medium. The piece I’d like to examine is a lost concerto in d minor for solo violin and strings with basso continuo that survives most famously in a transcription made by Bach himself as the d-minor harpsichord concerto, BWV 1052.[1] The original version for violin, however, so far as it can be discerned (which is in fact quite accurately), contains several striking differences from the later now-famous harpsichord concerto, and these affect the extramusical communication of the entire piece.[2]
That said, let’s dive in. We’ll suppose that we’re listening to the piece for the first time, perhaps not terribly experienced in the “inner workings” of classical music. What are some things that would strike us immediately? First of all, the piece opens with all of the instruments playing the same melody all together (that is, monophonically) rather than forming counterpoint and harmony with one another. This is neither usual nor unheard-of in baroque music. We would also notice that this monophonic statement of the melody returns to close the first movement. Again, this is unusual but not surprising, since the first and third movements of a typical late-baroque concerto are almost invariably in ritornello form, in which the opening material (the ritornello) is repeated in different keys throughout the movement, interspersed with “episodes” in which the soloist(s) play(s) contrasting material, and which concludes with another statement of the ritornello, or part of it. While it is thus not surprising that the opening ritornello should return verbatim at the end of the movement, the fact that this repeated ritornello is monophonic already accounts for an uncommonly high usage of monophony in this concerto by comparison with other concertos of Bach. What is all the more striking, then, is when the second movement (Adagio) similarly opens—and closes—with a 12-measure statement that is entirely monophonic. This is when we start to suspect that Bach may be up to something, which Bach seems to confirm by having the ritornello that begins and ends the third and final movement (Allegro) also begin with a measure of monophony. Indeed, no other surviving concerto of Bach employs monophony so prominently, so Bach is clearly doing something very deliberate here.
Another immediately striking feature of this concerto are the virtuosic solo cadenzas[3] that conclude the first and third movements, both of which are comparable in scope and demands only to that of the first movement of the fifth “Brandenburg” concerto in the entire ouvre of Bach. But even in the fifth “Brandenburg” concerto, only one movement contains a cadenza. The presence of two substantial cadenzas in a single concerto is another feature of this work that is unique among Bach’s output. Parallel to this is the uniqueness of the prominence of short, written-out cadenzas (basically improvisatory-sounding flourishes) found in the first movement in measures 109-112, and in the second movement at measures 57 and 74.
What compounds the intrigue is that both of these unique elements—the prominence of monophony and the unparalleled use of written-out cadenzas—seem to arise from a common concept. Monophony is when only one musical line is heard, without counterpoint or explicit harmony: it consists of a musical line that is without accompaniment, or solo, even if all the instruments share in playing that one line in unison. In a cadenza, the concerto soloist plays truly solo: alone, without the accompaniment of any other instruments. As both unique features of this concerto point strongly to the idea of solo, it could be said to be an extramusical “theme” of the concerto. So then we must ask ourselves what this might mean. But Bach is not so quick to lead us to the treasure: he has a few more surprises for us first.
[1] BWV 1052 dates from 1738. The concerto also survives complete in an earlier transcription by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach (son of Johann Sebastian) from c1732-4. In addition, the first two movements of the concerto appear transcribed in cantata 146 (the second movement with four-part choral writing superimposed!), dating from 1726 or 1728, and the third movement of the concerto doubles as the introductory sinfonia to cantata 188 from 1728, of which only a fragment survives. Several reconstructions of the original violin concerto have previously been attempted, though all are plagued with rather serious shortcomings, and consequently I have undertaken to reconstruct the concerto myself. My editorial decisions are supported in extensive critical notes accompanying the edition, and so I will not address them in this essay beyond what is immediately relevant to the discussion.
[2] This is why I will be focusing on the violin concerto rather than harpsichord concerto, even though the latter would be more convenient owing to the availability of published scores. But because of the overall similarity between the two works, those wishing to follow a score can follow that of the harpsichord concerto: points of significant divergence will be given in musical examples accompanying the present essay.
[3] A cadenza is an unaccompanied or minimally-accompanied passage that allows the soloist to demonstrate his/her virtuosity freely. Originally improvised, they are sometimes written out with the usual intent of sounding improvisatory. Those familiar with the harpsichord concerto BWV 1052 will recall that in that transcription these cadenzas are partially accompanied. Not so the violin concerto: the evidence overwhelmingly suggests that they were unaccompanied in their entirety (in the first movement from measure 153 to 171, and in the third movement from measure 250 until the final ritornello. N.B. Beginning at measure 265 of the third movement, the original violin part seems to have differed radically from what Bach would later give the solo harpsichord, consisting of measure-long arpeggiated chords outlining a progression different from that of the harpsichord concerto, which lead directly into the final ritornello.)
