15-史蒂文·伊瑟利斯 - 巴赫、亨德尔、斯卡拉蒂的古大提琴奏鸣曲（2015年）Hi-Res
艺术家：史蒂文·伊瑟利斯、理查德·埃加尔
作品名称：巴赫、亨德尔、斯卡拉蒂：维奥尔琴奏鸣曲
发行年份：2015年
厂牌：海波龙（Hyperion）/ CDA68045
音乐类型：古典音乐
音质：FLAC（分轨）24比特 / 96千赫兹
总时长：59分47秒
总大小：1.2GB
网站：专辑预览
曲目列表：
约翰·塞巴斯蒂安·巴赫（1685-1750）
G大调奏鸣曲，BWV1027
01. 第一乐章：柔板（3分34秒）
02. 第二乐章：不过分的快板（3分22秒）
03. 第三乐章：行板（2分32秒）
04. 第四乐章：中庸的快板（3分04秒）
多梅尼科·斯卡拉蒂（1685-1757）
D小调奏鸣曲，Kk90
05. 第一乐章：庄板（2分59秒）
06. 第二乐章：快板（4分29秒）
07. 第三乐章：广板 – 快板（3分20秒）
约翰·塞巴斯蒂安·巴赫（1685-1750）
G小调奏鸣曲，BWV1029
08. 第一乐章：活泼的（4分57秒）
09. 第二乐章：柔板（5分01秒）
10. 第三乐章：快板（3分49秒）
乔治·弗里德里希·亨德尔（1685-1759）
G小调小提琴奏鸣曲，HWV364b
11. 第一乐章：稍慢的行板（1分58秒）
12. 第二乐章：快板（1分41秒）
13. 第三乐章：柔板（0分43秒）
14. 第四乐章：快板（2分11秒）
约翰·塞巴斯蒂安·巴赫（1685-1750）
D大调奏鸣曲，BWV1028
15. 第一乐章：柔板（1分40秒）
16. 第二乐章：快板（3分34秒）
17. 第三乐章：行板（4分07秒）
18. 第四乐章：快板（3分54秒）
19. 我向你呼求，主耶稣基督，BWV639（2分52秒）
1685年——多么不平凡的一年啊！送子鹳想必是加班加点地工作，因高质量的“投递”而赚得不少奖金。诚然，偶尔也会有年份诞生两位伟大的作曲家（特别值得一提的是1810年，舒曼和肖邦都在这一年出生），但1685年却是独一无二的，因为在这一年诞生了三位天才作曲家。巴赫、亨德尔和斯卡拉蒂在个性和创作风格上后来都截然不同；但他们三人都创作出了不朽的音乐，改变了世界。当天使们（还有送子鹳）俯瞰着这三个红扑扑、哇哇大哭的婴儿，并预见他们的未来时，心里该是多么欣慰啊！
这张专辑中巴赫的作品占据了较大比重，这是很合适的，因为在这三位作曲家中，他对弦乐独奏和室内乐的贡献是最为丰厚且意义重大的。他最著名的作品当然是六首小提琴无伴奏奏鸣曲和组曲以及六首大提琴无伴奏组曲；但他为键盘乐器与小提琴以及与维奥尔琴所写的奏鸣曲同样也是杰作。维奥尔琴奏鸣曲并不像（例如）大提琴组曲那样构成一个统一的系列；但这三首奏鸣曲有着丰富多样的情感基调和形式，且都以巴赫独特的高雅音乐语言来表达，构成了一组令人深感满足的三部曲。我们并不确切知道这些奏鸣曲的创作时间，但现代研究表明，它们都是在作曲家晚年于莱比锡（巴赫从1723年一直生活到去世的地方）创作的。这一理论得到了巴赫亲手书写的唯一留存下来的手稿的支持，那是第一首奏鸣曲的手稿；检测显示这份手稿大约创作于1740年。也许这些奏鸣曲是为维奥尔琴演奏家卡尔·弗里德里希·阿贝尔而写的，他在1737年至1743年期间生活在莱比锡。
一些学者声称，这三首奏鸣曲最初可能都是为其他乐器而作；然而，除了G大调奏鸣曲（BWV1027）有一个早期版本是为两支长笛和通奏低音而作（BWV1039）之外，并没有确凿的证据支持这一说法。一首最初为两件乐器和键盘而构思的奏鸣曲，为一件乐器和键盘演奏时效果也同样出色，这似乎有些奇怪；但实际上这是完全合理的。这三首维奥尔琴奏鸣曲都是三重奏鸣曲，为三个平等的声部而写——一个声部是维奥尔琴，另外两个声部是键盘的高音和低音。（另一方面，这张专辑中亨德尔和斯卡拉蒂的作品是为独奏乐器和通奏低音而作的奏鸣曲——因此添加了大提琴来加强羽管键琴的低音线条。）用大提琴来演奏这些巴赫的奏鸣曲——大提琴是维奥尔琴更为强劲的“弟弟”，或者至少是“表亲”——与柔和的维奥尔琴和它的老朋友羽管键琴之间的搭配相比，可能会在平衡方面带来更多问题；但这些问题绝非无法克服。对于我们大提琴手来说，平时在现代钢琴丰富的音色中很难凸显自己的声音，而在这里能够尽可能轻柔地演奏，又不用担心听不见，这种感觉真是太棒了。
第一首奏鸣曲的两个版本都是G大调。巴赫同时代的约翰·马泰松在他关于不同调性本质的论述中，将G大调描述为“适度的真正守护者”。这部作品的四个乐章无疑都证实了这一特征；即使是速度较快的乐章也标记为“不过分的快板”（Allegro ma non tanto）和“中庸的快板”（Allegro moderato）——这里没有极端情感的容身之地。从开头柔板那轻快的旋律开始，到奏鸣曲结尾那辉煌的华彩乐段，我们仿佛置身于一个田园世界，一切都那么美好。只有行板的结尾出人意料地打破了这个田园诗般的世界；在这里，维奥尔琴下行的悲叹声，让人想起《圣约翰受难曲》中维奥尔琴独奏的悲剧性咏叹调《成了》（“Es is vollbracht”），或许传达出了深藏于极度喜悦背后的某种痛苦。
多梅尼科·斯卡拉蒂在各个方面都是与巴赫截然不同的人物；无论是在生平经历还是音乐风格上，巴赫的德国路德教派情感与斯卡拉蒂华丽的奇思妙想之间的对比都十分鲜明。巴赫从未离开过他的祖国德国，而斯卡拉蒂则是一位国际旅行者。他出生于那不勒斯，一生中大部分时间都在葡萄牙和西班牙度过，这些地方充满活力的色彩和声音都渗透到了他的艺术创作中。他最为人所知的是他的五百多首键盘奏鸣曲（或“练习曲”），其中大多数都只有一个乐章；绝大多数都是在斯卡拉蒂去世后才出版的。在这些奏鸣曲中，有少数在低音部分下面标有数字低音；1947年，羽管键琴演奏家莱昂内尔·索尔特发表了一篇文章，令人信服地论证了这些奏鸣曲实际上是为小提琴和通奏低音而作的。在这些小提琴奏鸣曲中，D小调奏鸣曲（Kk90）可能是最优秀的。比马泰松晚一些的评论员，（虚构的）摇滚乐队“脊椎穿刺”（Spinal Tap）的主吉他手奈杰尔·图夫内尔将D小调描述为一种能“让人立刻落泪”的调性；也许斯卡拉蒂是“脊椎穿刺”乐队的粉丝，因为这首奏鸣曲确实似乎遵循了这一准则。浪漫的开场咏叹调——是女主角的哀叹吗？——立刻将我们带入了一个与巴赫的音乐世界截然不同的歌剧世界。接着是一段充满活力的快板，洋溢着无法抑制的能量和幽默。最后两个部分——都是舞曲，一个是自信的12/8拍，另一个是慵懒的3/8拍（奇怪的是，在手稿中标注为“快板”（Allegro）的是后者，而不是前者）——在我们三位演奏者看来，将它们作为一组“从头反复”（da capo）的段落最为合适。没有证据支持这一决定（不过也几乎没有证据反对它；斯卡拉蒂对音乐学家来说仍然是一个难以捉摸的人物）——但这样处理似乎效果很好。
巴赫的G小调奏鸣曲（BWV1029）是维奥尔琴奏鸣曲中唯一只有三个乐章的，在某些方面它类似于意大利风格的协奏曲；这使得许多学者认为它最初是一首大协奏曲（实际上是第七首《勃兰登堡协奏曲》），甚至有人将其重新改编成了大协奏曲的形式。然而，当我们想到巴赫经常在没有管弦乐队参与的情况下采用协奏曲形式进行创作（想想《意大利协奏曲》），并考虑到这首奏鸣曲作为二重奏是多么完美时，这种理论就不那么有吸引力了。开头的乐章标记为“活泼的”（Vivace，在巴洛克时期，这个速度通常比“快板”（Allegro）要慢），其锯齿状、热闹的主题和乐段可能会让我们想起《勃兰登堡协奏曲》；但慢乐章则完全是另一回事，这是一个非凡的创作，在这个乐章中，两件乐器似乎在一个空灵的世界中各自飘荡，直到乐章进行到相当程度时才几乎察觉到彼此的存在。最后的快板同样出乎人的意料：开头类似赋格的主题由三个声部平等地呈现，与之形成对比的是一个温柔、如歌的第二主题——这明显预示了古典和浪漫主义奏鸣曲形式中对比主题的出现。整部作品向我们展示了巴赫倾向于将具有变革性的思想融入表面上传统的形式中。想想看，在他那个时代，他竟然被认为是守旧的！
和斯卡拉蒂一样，亨德尔也是一个热衷于旅行的人（至少与巴赫相比是这样）。在定居英国（他一生中大部分时间都在那里度过）之前，亨德尔曾在意大利待过一段时间。在那里他遇到了斯卡拉蒂，两人成了朋友。有一个故事说，亨德尔在威尼斯乔装参加一个化装舞会；他像往常一样，在羽管键琴前坐下并开始演奏。斯卡拉蒂走过来听，立刻被迷住了。“要么那是那位著名的撒克逊人，”他惊呼道，“要么就是魔鬼。”据说在晚年，每当提到亨德尔的名字时，斯卡拉蒂都会虔诚地划十字。和斯卡拉蒂的一些作品一样，亨德尔的一些小提琴奏鸣曲在很长一段时间里也被认为是为其他乐器而作的，其中有几首最初是以双簧管或长笛奏鸣曲的形式出现的。此外，它们还常常与被错误归为亨德尔作品的伪作奏鸣曲归在一起；直到近年来，这种混淆才得到妥善解决，他作品中这一相对被忽视的方面才开始得到应有的重视。这首G小调奏鸣曲（HWV364b）大约创作于1724年，最初是以双簧管奏鸣曲的形式出版的。实际上，它更像是一首小提琴奏鸣曲；但也有一个真实的其他版本。手稿的第一页包含了小提琴部分的开头几小节，用不同的谱号在低八度处重新书写，并附有亨德尔亲手写下的“为维奥尔琴而作”（per la viola da gamba）字样——这使得它成为亨德尔唯一的一首维奥尔琴奏鸣曲。作品以一首如歌的稍慢的行板开头，同样远比巴赫奏鸣曲中的任何乐章都更具歌剧风格，并以一首喧闹的吉格舞曲结尾，这是一位伟大作曲家在当时流行风格的基础上进行创作并超越这种风格的绝佳范例。
我们把巴赫的第二首维奥尔琴奏鸣曲，即D大调奏鸣曲（BWV1028）放在了这张专辑的最后；这可能看起来有些奇怪，直到你听到它。它实在是太精彩了！感人至深的第一乐章直接引出了一个充满活力的舞蹈般的快板（最早的资料没有给出速度指示，但这类乐章的默认速度通常是“快板”（Allegro）），接着是一个忧郁的、类似西西里舞曲风格的B小调行板。然而，所有的辛酸都被一个充满欢乐的炫技快板一扫而空——两件乐器在越来越狂野的乐段中试图超越对方——我们觉得这首奏鸣曲必须作为这张专辑的结尾。
但最终并非如此。在我们进行这次录音的前几天，理查德和我讨论了在一场音乐会上演奏什么作为返场曲目。我犹豫地提出了我一直以来最喜欢的作品之一，巴赫的众赞歌前奏曲（最初为管风琴而作，出自《管风琴小曲集》）《我向你呼求，主耶稣基督》；但随后又收回了这个想法，大胆地说也许它不太适合用羽管键琴来演奏。理查德（用他那独特生动的语言）极力反对；但这个争论一直没有解决，因为我忘了把乐谱带到音乐会上（哎呀！）。不过，我确实把它带到了录音现场；出于好奇，我们演奏了一遍，我立刻就相信它用羽管键琴演奏是可行的——至少在理查德的手中是这样。所以它就出现在了这里：展现了巴赫最辉煌、最崇高的一面。音乐之神当之无愧。
Artist: Steven Isserlis, Richard Egarr
Title: Bach, Handel, Scarlatti: Gamba Sonatas
Year Of Release: 2015
Label: Hyperion / CDA68045
Genre: Classical
Quality: FLAC (tracks) 24bit / 96kHz
Total Time: 00:59:47
Total Size: 1.2 GB
WebSite: Album Preview
Tracklist:
Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685-1750)
Sonata in G major, BWV1027
01. 1: Adagio (03:34)
02. 2: Allegro ma non tanto (03:22)
03. 3: Andante (02:32)
04. 4: Allegro moderato (03:04)
Scarlatti, Domenico (1685-1757)
Sonata in D minor, Kk90
05. 1: Grave (02:59)
06. 2: Allegro (04:29)
07. 3: Largo – Allegro (03:20)
Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685-1750)
Sonata in G minor, BWV1029
08. 1: Vivace (04:57)
09. 2: Adagio (05:01)
10. 3: Allegro (03:49)
Handel, George Frideric (1685-1759)
Violin Sonata in G minor, HWV364b
11. 1: Andante larghetto (01:58)
12. 2: Allegro (01:41)
13. 3: Adagio (00:43)
14. 4: Allegro (02:11)
Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685-1750)
Sonata in D major, BWV1028
15. 1: Adagio (01:40)
16. 2: Allegro (03:34)
17. 3: Andante (04:07)
18. 4: Allegro (03:54)
19. Ich ruf' zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV639 (02:52)
1685—what a year! The storks must have been working overtime, earning bonuses for high-quality deliveries. There have, it’s true, been occasional years which have produced two great composers (notably 1810, birth-year of both Schumann and Chopin), but 1685 is unique in having seen the arrival of three composers of genius. Bach, Handel and Scarlatti would turn out to be very different characters, personally and creatively; but all three of them would produce imperishable music that would change the world. How pleased the angels (and storks) must have felt as they looked down at the three red-faced, squalling babies, and foresaw their futures!
It is fitting that Bach gets the lion’s share of this album, since of the three composers his contribution to solo and chamber music for strings is by far the most substantial and significant. The most famous examples are of course his six sonatas and partitas for solo violin and six suites for solo cello; but his sonatas for keyboard with violin and with viola da gamba are also masterpieces. The gamba sonatas do not form a unified set, as do (for instance) the cello suites; but with their generous range of moods and forms, all expressed in Bach’s uniquely elevated musical language, the three sonatas make a deeply satisfying triptych. We do not know exactly when the sonatas were composed, but modern research suggests that all were written in Leipzig (where Bach lived from 1723 until his death) during the composer’s later years. This theory is supported by the only surviving manuscript in Bach’s own hand, which is of the first sonata; tests have shown this copy to date from around 1740. Perhaps the sonatas were written for the gamba virtuoso Carl Friedrich Abel, who spent the years 1737 to 1743 in Leipzig.
Some writers have claimed that all three sonatas may have originated as works for other instruments; there is no definite evidence for this, however—except in the case of the Sonata in G major, BWV1027, which also exists in an earlier version for two flutes and continuo, BWV1039. It might seem strange that a sonata originally conceived for two instruments and keyboard should work equally well for one instrument and keyboard; but actually it makes perfect sense. All three gamba sonatas are trio sonatas, written for three equal voices—one being the gamba, the other two the treble and bass of the keyboard. (The works by Handel and Scarlatti on this album, on the other hand, are sonatas for solo instrument with continuo—hence the added cello, to reinforce the harpsichord’s bass line.) Playing these Bach sonatas on the cello—the gamba’s rather more robust younger brother, or at least cousin—perhaps throws up a few more questions of balance than arise between the gentle gamba and its old friend the harpsichord; but these are by no means insuperable. And it is lovely for us cellists, used to making our presence felt with some difficulty over the rich sound of a modern piano, to be able to play as lightly as possible without ever courting inaudibility.
Both versions of the first sonata are set in the key of G major. Bach’s contemporary Johann Mattheson, in his treatise on the natures of different tonalities, quotes a description of G major as ‘a true guardian of moderation’. All four movements of this work certainly bear out this characterization; even the faster ones are marked Allegro ma non tanto and Allegro moderato—no room for extremism here. From the lilting melody with which the opening Adagio begins, through to the triumphant flourish that concludes the sonata, we are in a pastoral world where all is well. Only the ending of the Andante unexpectedly breaks out of this idyllic world; here the gamba’s descending cry, reminiscent of the tragic aria with gamba solo ‘Es is vollbracht’ (‘It is finished’), from the St John Passion, perhaps conveys something of the suffering that lies behind deep joy.
Domenico Scarlatti was a very different character in every way from Bach; the contrast between the latter’s German Lutheran sensibilities and the former’s resplendent eccentricity is striking, both biographically and musically. Whereas Bach never left his native Germany, Scarlatti was an international traveller. Born in Naples, he spent much of his life in Portugal and Spain, the vibrant colours and sounds of all these places permeating his art. He is best known for a collection of well over 500 keyboard sonatas (or ‘essercizi’), most of them consisting of a single movement; the vast majority were published well after Scarlatti’s death. A handful of these sonatas have figured basses written underneath the bass part; in 1947 the harpsichordist Lionel Salter wrote an article convincingly arguing that they were actually intended as sonatas for violin and basso continuo. Of these violin sonatas, the Sonata in D minor, Kk90, is probably the finest. A rather later commentator than Mattheson, the lead guitarist of the (spoof) rock group Spinal Tap, Nigel Tufnel, describes D minor as a key that ‘makes people weep instantly’; perhaps Scarlatti was a Spinal Tap fan, because this sonata certainly seems to follow that precept. The romantic opening aria—a heroine’s lamentation?—takes us immediately into an operatic world utterly different from Bach’s. This is followed by a fizzy Allegro, overflowing with irrepressible energy and humour. The last two sections—both dances, one a confident 12/8, the other a languorous 3/8 (strangely, it is the latter, not the former, which is marked Allegro in the manuscript)—seem to us three performers to make most sense as a ‘da capo’ pair. There is no evidence to support this decision (though hardly any to counter it, either; Scarlatti remains a difficult figure for musicologists)—but it just seems to work.
Bach’s Sonata in G minor, BWV1029, the only one of the gamba sonatas containing just three movements, in some ways resembles a concerto in the Italian style; this has led many writers to suggest that it was originally a concerto grosso (a seventh Brandenburg Concerto, in fact), and even to reconstruct it as such. However, when one remembers that Bach frequently composed in concerto form with no orchestra involved (think of the Italian Concerto) and considers how perfectly the sonata works as a duo, this theory becomes less attractive. The opening movement, marked Vivace (often a slower tempo than Allegro in Baroque times), with its jagged, bustling subjects and episodes, may remind us of the Brandenburg concertos; but the slow movement is something else altogether, an extraordinary creation in which the two instruments seem to float apart through a rarefied world, barely acknowledging each other’s presence until well into the movement. The final Allegro, too, confounds expectations: the fugue-like opening theme, shared equally by all three voices, is countered by a tender, singing second subject—a clear foreshadowing of the contrasting subjects of Classical and Romantic sonata forms. The work as a whole shows us Bach’s predilection for clothing transformative ideas in ostensibly traditional forms. To think that in his own time, he was considered old-fashioned!
Like Scarlatti, Handel was an inveterate traveller (compared to Bach, at least). Before settling in England, where he was to spend most of his life, Handel had spent time in Italy. There he met Scarlatti, and the two men became friends. A story was told about Handel attending a fancy dress party in Venice in disguise; as was his wont, he sat down at the harpsichord, and started playing. Scarlatti wandered over to listen, and was transfixed. ‘Either that is the famous Saxon’, he exclaimed, ‘or the Devil.’ It was said that in later life Scarlatti would cross himself reverently every time Handel’s name was mentioned. Like Scarlatti’s, some of Handel’s violin sonatas were for a long time thought to be intended for other instruments, several of them initially appearing as sonatas for oboe or flute. Furthermore, they were often grouped together with spurious sonatas misattributed to Handel; it is only in recent years that the confusion has been properly resolved, and this comparatively neglected side of his output has started to receive its due. The present Sonata in G minor, HWV364b, composed around 1724, was originally published as an oboe sonata. In fact, it is very much a violin sonata; but there is an authentic alternative version as well. The first page of the manuscript contains the opening bars of the violin part rewritten an octave lower in a different clef, with the words ‘per la viola da gamba’ appended in Handel’s hand—making it Handel’s only gamba sonata. Opening with a singing Andante larghetto, again far more operatic than anything in Bach’s sonatas, and concluding with a rumbustious gigue, the work is a wonderful example of a great composer writing in, and transcending, a popular style of the day.
We have left Bach’s second gamba sonata, the Sonata in D major, BWV1028, until last on this album; this might seem curious, perhaps—until you hear it. It is a show-stopper! The melting first movement leads straight into a high-spirited dancing Allegro (the earliest sources give no tempo indication, but the default setting for such movements would be Allegro), which is in turn followed by a melancholic, siciliano-like Andante in B minor. All poignancy is swept aside, however, by an Allegro of such joyous virtuosity—both instruments attempting to outdo each other in increasingly wild episodes—that we felt that this sonata had to conclude the album.
Except that in the end it didn’t. A couple of days before we made this recording, Richard and I had a discussion about what to play as an encore at a recital we were giving. I hesitatingly suggested one of my all-time favourite works, Bach’s Chorale Prelude (originally for organ, from the Orgelbüchlein) Ich ruf’ zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ; but then withdrew the idea, daring to say that perhaps it wouldn’t work on the harpsichord. Richard begged (in his characteristically colourful language) to differ; but the argument remained unresolved, because I forgot to take the music to the recital (ahem!). I did, however, take it to the recording session; and, having played it through just for interest’s sake, I was immediately convinced that it does work on the harpsichord—at least in Richard’s hands. So here it is: Bach at his most gloriously sublime. The God of Music indeed.
**** Hidden Message *****
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