What extraordinarily lucky people we are! Not only are we in this world to make music, this most powerful art form, we all are at some point in our lives confronted with Bach. I should tell you right now that his music, more specifically his work for solo violin and cello, presents a challenge quite incomparable to any other work we may put on our stands. Not only because we are quite alone without any help from another instrument, but also because in order to perform these suites, we are expected to be architects and storytellers as well.

Sometimes I try to convince myself that, after all, Bach is ‘just' another composer of baroque music, albeit a very good one. Not very successfully. Before I start on the journey into his world, I see a structure, a building of great beauty and harmony, practically indestructible, because he designed it so well. To continue with this image, it is now my task to try to reconstruct it, and guide you through it with my storyteller's skills.

And once in a while, to some extent, I succeed. Does this sound over the top? Perhaps, but for me it is crystal clear reality every time I enter his world.

Let us come down from this very interesting philosophical hill and give you some facts and figures about our suites. Bach probably wrote the cello suites before the sonatas and partitas for violin; they once were a set, Part I cello, Part II violin. Unfortunately Bach's autograph is lost; we have to content ourselves with four sources: a) Anna Magdalena (his wife), b) Kellner (who copied a lot of Bach's works), c) anonymous, early 2nd half of the 18th century (Collection Westphal), and d) anonymous, late 18th century. Unfortunately none of these sources is precise and credible throughout in its use of articulations (by which I mean ‘slurs', in other words ‘bowing instructions'). It is interesting to compare Bach's autograph of the violin pieces with A. M.'s copy of the same. Although Bach too was often not very precise, as in his cantatas, he must have prepared the violin pieces for the purpose of printing because there is very little doubt about his intentions when it comes to the use of articulations. Next to his, A.M.'s copy looks very sloppy indeed and it seems that her copy of the cello suites shares the same fate.

Well, OK, what about the other sources then? In spite of the combined efforts of quite a number of esteemed musicologists, the provenance  of the other sources is not clear so there is no way to establish a degree of credibility for any of them. And, as you may have guessed already, they all seem to join A.M. in her sloppiness, although it is my impression that in certain movements the two later sources seem to be pretty tidy.

Why do we make such a fuss about articulations? Nicolaus Harnoncourt once wrote a beautiful one-liner: "Before Mozart there was the word, after him there was melody". This is not a precise translation but it puts the finger on an essential point: the word and its musical, rhetorical expression was daily bread and butter for musicians and composers until Mozart. And therefore the use of articulation was considered very important for the understanding of the message in the music. So we find ourselves in a spot of trouble: how to make sense of the different bits of information that have reached us through these four sources? First of all, we have to be clear about one thing: we will never find the ‘truth', the ‘right' way, i.e. Bach's way. What then can we do about this? The way that works for me is to start with A.M. in spite of her sloppiness and then try to get suggestions or perhaps even answers from the other sources for the many moments that a question mark appears on my face. Alas!, not even these four combined sources give me enough clarity, so I ask Johann Sebastian himself to come to the rescue and to some extent he does with his autograph of the violin works. There are quite a number of passages which show great similarities with the cello suites and they can give us some clues. Furthermore, I simply read his score and this gives me an impression of his language. He is very clear, does not mind articulating similar passages in similar ways - I hope that through doing this I can present a version that shows respect to his way of thinking.

As a last contribution to the solution of our predicament, we realize that Bach did not live on an island. He is firmly rooted in 18th-century Germany and this too helps us, because every baroque piece we play increases our understanding of the articulation possibilities of the baroque language.

The six suites consist of three groups of two. The first group (Suite nrs. I and II) has two Menuets after the Sarabande, replaced in the second group (Suite nrs. III and IV) by Bourrée I and II which in turn is replaced in the last two suites by Gavotte I and II. There is a clear development in scope and complexity: while in the suites I, II and III Bach stays relatively close to the origin of the dances, beginning with the 4th and in particular in the last two suites the original form of  some of the dances becomes ever more distant. I do not believe that Bach intended any of his suites to be danced, although it has been an illuminating experience for me to work on some of his dances with the input and the movements of a dancer. He used some of the characteristics of the dances as a sort of framework, which he released as he progressed.

Further evidence of Bach's continuing exploration of the instrument can be found in his use of a 5-stringed cello for the 6th suite and of scordatura in the 5th; here the top A-string needs to be tuned down to G, which changes the resonance of the cello quite drastically. This tuning was not his invention; in the 17th century it was used for instance by D. Gabrielli in his ricercare for cello solo.

Jaap ter Linden, 2006

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