Episode 08: Johann Sebastian

“At least in one phase of your life, study Bach, play Bach, analyse him, listen to him, try to grasp him - whether you use a guitar, accordion, cello or marimba.”

In the second part of this episode, you'll hear my interpretation of Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata e-minor.

Well, a question immediately arises: How can one interpret Toccata, playing on the twenty-first century modern piano, even though Bach hadn't even touched a real piano in 1710 when it was composed.

I must admit that I am not the most dutiful researcher who longs primarily for authenticity. This is maybe one of the reasons for my passion for romantic music, which allows me somehow instinctively to rely on my feelings, personal stories and emotions. And probably, that’s why I desire to compose my own pieces that naturally fit my expression. They're mine, so when I play them, they couldn't be more authentic. And that brings me a lot of freedom.

But let's go back to the time when Bach first had a chance to use the piano as we know it nowadays. It beautifully illustrates the difference between me and my friend, who is quite perfect example of the interpreter /slash/ researcher.

I mentioned that Bach composed the Toccata in 1710. At that time, Bach used to compose for the keyboard instruments of that era, such as clavichord, harpsichord and organ. In fact, as far as I know, he only encountered the instrument, which then gradually evolved into today's modern piano, much, much later.

When I shared this historical knowledge with my friend 'The Researcher', who happens to be a harpsichordist, he was quick to jump on my "much later" statement and said:

"Actually, Eva Badura Skoda came up with a hypothesis that Bach first encountered the piano as early as 1731 and that's when he started using it for his later work. However, Christoph Wolff's research speaks against this; according to him, Bach first met the instrument in 1741 and then in 1747 during a visit to the Prussian court. "We then agreed that Bach must have really liked the hammer piano, whether it was earlier or later, and that it is possible to play Bach's music on any instrument provide it is in good taste.

Toccata e-minor is the last composition by Bach that I devoted my time to before graduating from the academy. Throughout my studies, I performed several two-part Inventions and three-part Sinfonias, about six Preludes and Fugues. I played Bach's concerto for two pianos with my classmate; I accompanied another friend when he played Bach's solo Concerto. However, I haven't seen myself on stage with Bach later in my career, even though it is music that I admire and respect. I always considered Bach's music primarily as an opportunity to broaden my horizons, and to work on breathtaking material that would push me forward. Things changed with Toccata. Firstly, this particular composition appealed to me differently than the previous ones. And secondly, it was during a period of change, when I began to feel an ever-stronger responsibility for my own interpretive opinions, for choosing the repertoire, and for finding my way to grasp it.

In addition to my previous study of various Bach compositions, I had already read a book by Bach's son Carl Phillip Emanuel Bach at that time. It is called ‘Essay on the true art of playing keyboard instruments', and as my friend would say, it is like the Old Testament for musicians. And I am saying: may his wise words be with you at least in the moments of playing Bach!

I played Toccata to three different piano professors, one after another. Each of them gave me his opinions and advice, presented with conviction and, I'm sure, with the best of intentions. At the same time - many of them were totally contradictory.

It occurred to me: If I uncritically accepted only opinions of one of them, for instance, out of great respect, how would I prove myself playing in a room with all three professors in the audience?

It also occurred to me that if I were sixteen, and consultation with just one of them was my only option; then I would most likely regard his advice as the interpretive truth. That is why the choice of a professor at a younger age is so important. It is of great importance having a professor who can, on the one hand, convincingly present his own experiences and truths for you to accept and follow with confidence, but on the other hand, a professor, who constantly gives you impulses to discover yourself.

This time, I approached their Toccata tips like this: I listened to all three professors and thought about what could led them to their opinions, without directly agreeing or disagreeing with any of them. I perceived them as a sort of inspiring structures of their truth.

Then I played the Toccata to my harpsichord friend. We talked for a long time, covering topics from the interpretation of Toccata to the cost of candles and eggs in Bach's time. I felt that his views drew more heavily from historical materials to which he could refer constructively.

Each of the four approaches was different, but I was grateful to every one of them for their contributions. And then I realised I was finally ready to listen to myself and play Toccata the way I wanted. When I then played the recording of my version to my friend, he was dissatisfied with many things. Just as each of the professors appreciated something and rejected something else. But I already knew why I was playing it this way. And that's the feeling I seek as an artist as well as a listener — a sense achieved through continually looking for truths. Sometimes you find them within yourself, sometimes in your surrounding.

At least in one phase of your life, study Bach, play Bach, analyse him, listen to him, try to grasp him - whether you use a guitar, accordion, cello or marimba. Let his music penetrate your mind, your hearing, your motor skills. Whether he finds a way to your heart is at that point secondary. Bach can teach us music through his compositional language on many levels.

Usually, students at music schools must interpret several compulsory compositions during their studies. Each school has its own rules, according to the traditions of the institution, but I think there is a similar model almost everywhere. Namely, the student must include compositions of all periods in his repertoire, specifically several etudes of Frederic Chopin, at least two Sonatas from the period of classicism, and Bach.

Of course, one doesn’t have to find all of them suitable to his taste. Someone finds out what is right for him sooner; another has to look for it longer, and some never stop looking. But being students of music, it is actually our duty to get to know the diverse material. And compulsory compositions are our external motivation to get acquainted with a repertoire, which we might never pick up on our own.

To know the principles and musical languages ​​associated with historical development is essentially food that provides us with sufficient nutrients for the entire following course of our music journeys. Like doctors, who study medicine for many years. Only then they decide whether they become opticians, neurologists or cardiologists.

Just as I don't see myself (at least for now) on a stage playing Bach's music, I don't consider Mozart's work to be my major interpretive passion. Yet, during my studies, it helped me immensely to get to know his music. It made me very happy to play his Sonatas, to write my own cadence for his Concerto (with which I failed to audition for a performance with an orchestra, as the commission objected that I interpreted his music too romantically). Still, there are Mozart's pieces that speak to me differently from the others. Fantasy d-minor, which I recorded out of a similar inner impulse as Bach's Toccata, or the violin sonata e-minor, which we are happily studying with my violinist friend these days.

Well, I don't want to play Mozart's complete work, and I don't desire to be a scientific expert about his life. Nonetheless, responsibility comes with the decision to play his music. And it is up to each of us to know how much conscious work and time we need to put into the interpretation of the composition so that we can understand it and find our own truth in it.