J. S. Bach
Brandenburg Concertos
English Baroque Soloists/John Eliot Gardiner
Soli Deo Gloria SDG707

The Brandenburg Concertos are one of the greatest musical CVs ever assembled. In March 1721 Bach dedicated his score to Christian Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg, not in fulfilment of a commission but more as a thinly disguised job application. Bach himself referred to these pieces simply as ‘Six Concertos for Several Instruments’, the title ‘Brandenburg Concertos’ was actually dreamed up as late as 1873 by his first biographer Philipp Spitta. It’s misleading, of course, because these six concertos were neither conceived as a set nor intended specifically for the Margrave’s pleasure. They were in fact written over several years during Bach’s time as Kapellmeister at the court of Cöthen (1717-23), where he had a group of highly talented instrumental virtuosos to whose strengths he catered. The opportunity for first-rate music-making seems to have spurred him on to explore the potential of the concerto form itself, which he reinvented with each new work.
All of this helps explain why of all Baroque concertos it is the Brandenburgs which present the ultimate challenge to performers today. Normally, they are programmed a few at a time in concerts. On CD they tend to turn up in sixes – well, it’s a lot easier to rise to the challenge when there’s plenty of time to re-balance the players between concertos – and take a breather. What marks out this new release from John Eliot Gardiner and the English Baroque Soloists is that, most unusually, they have recorded the set live – the raison d’être of their Soli Deo Gloria label.
This is not the only noteworthy feature, because it’s also actually the first time Gardiner has recorded these works. Even now he sees fit to wield the baton only in the first two concertos: the meaty ones, grand and complex enough to benefit from a conductor. The other four works, he argues, are essentially chamber music and belong to a ‘conductor free zone’, so here they are directed by his concert-mistress Kati Debretzeni.
If I was reading this review, rather than writing it, I’d want to know pretty quickly and succinctly how these Brandenburgs compare with the competition, whether their ‘liveness’ imparts anything especially fresh or spontaneous, whether Gardiner and Debretzeni have anything new to say, and whether I should spend my money (at medium price). So here we go.
Compared with Rinaldo Alessandrini’s and Trevor Pinnock’s recent versions, the first thing that struck me was the slightly disappointing sound, especially in the first two concertos. It’s not as tonally rich as one might wish, and in No. 1 various instrumental groups are not as well delineated as in the competition. Indeed, in his booklet notes Gardiner talk with enthusiasm about the ‘rebellious … sweaty … whooping’ horns subverting the genteel orchestra, but really, compared with the stereo fanfaring of Alessandrini’s players, Gardiner’s lot sound pretty tame. It’s only in the second Trio that they truly come to life in conversation with the oboes. This is so thrillingly delivered, but sounds so different from the surrounding movement, it could almost be a retake. There are some other lovely things in this long first concerto too, like the dancing third movement and the hushed and affectingly hesitant Polonaise.
In No. 2 – apart from the somewhat unengaging sound overall – the balance is good. With a solo group including a trumpet alongside the diminutive recorder, hearing the detail in this movement can often be a problem, but the disposition of the performers on stage and the placement of the microphones really work very well. Alessandrini’s trumpeter is a little too loud, but Pinnock’s balance of soloists reveals considerably more detail than either of his two main rivals. Where Gardiner scores is in the naturalness of his performance, though the speed at which he takes the first movement certainly test his players’ nerves.
By the time we arrive at No. 3 there’s a clear sense that these players have been thoroughly immersed in Bach: many took part in Gardiner’s Cantata Pilgrimage as well as many previous performances of these concertos. They are simply wonderful together, and Debretzeni is clearly a team player. The arresting dialogue between the instrumental groups in the last movement can come only from players who know each other’s instincts perfectly. Debretzeni herself contributes a short Bach-inspired solo to link the outer movements, which although written-out comes across with great spontaneity. A couple of other highlights include the final movement of No. 4, which has an inner energy to its counterpoint that is wonderfully involving for the listener, and the finale of No. 6, which is perfectly paced to allow the small rhythmic displacements to make their effect and allow the viola players to get their fingers round all the filigree work. A specially matched pair of violas was commissioned for this project, and their distinctive, edgy, silvery tone makes for an almost aggressive quality to the tuttis of the first movement but relaxes into a gutty waxiness in the slow movement.
No. 5 took me a little by surprise. The opening movement – with its famous solo writing for the harpsichord – sounded much less like a prototype keyboard concerto than usual. Well integrated in the texture, the harpsichord struck me as a little less flash in its virtuoso outpourings and, for once, not really dictating the direction of the movements. There’s a new twist to the slow movement too, where the opening theme is articulated, rather affectingly, with a break between the third and fourth note: so small a modification, but so telling.
Perusing the booklet, I very much enjoyed reading several ‘Reflections’ on performing these concertos penned by six key members of the orchestra, though I couldn’t help cringing when Gardiner himself, in a fit of over-enthusiasm, claims that the dance-based music occasionally spills over into the ‘Baroque equivalent of jazz, or even rock ‘n’ roll’. Not a useful analogy – at all.
Overall then, these performances are thoroughly enjoyable, technically more accomplished than many, and more considered than most. Fast movements are taken at a real lick, and slow movements are allowed to breathe without becoming too luxuriant. The live recording brings us a strongly coherent set with a palpable sense of chamber-like intensity in the latter concertos, but not always the best sound in the first two. Some sets of Brandenburgs are deliberately exciting (Reinhard Goebel and Alessandrini), but Gardiner and his team belong among the more measured interpreters (like Pinnock).
Although I’ve not had this recording for very long, I can already tell that it’s going to offer lasting listening pleasure. I’m just starting to relish the subtleties of phrasing and articulation – so many little new ideas – which one easily misses the first few times one listens. None of the concertos stands out from the pack as markedly more impressive or insightful than the others. Indeed, what particularly catches the ear are the final fast movements – where the relish of the dance is perfectly balanced with a deep understanding of the textural and rhetorical riches just beneath the surface. For the last four concertos in particular, this is unmissable.

Simon Heighes