Lautenbacher in ENglish

Suzanne Lautenbacher’s 2nd Set of the Sonatas and Partitas

I have been after this version for years. My first encounter with Suzanne Lautenbacher was a live concert when I was about 17. I was very impressed by her sonority and even by her presence.
Immediately after that I listened – quite by chance – to her Biber and I was very struck by it. A little later I acquired her Sonatas and Partitas – a Vox Box set – by the records were in such a bad state (plops and clicks and all manner of annoyances) that I only really remembered her masterful rendition of the sarabande of the 1st partita.
Later I bought her first version by mistake. I finally spotted (in a shop in Lisbon) her 2nd version.
I was very impressed. What strikes the attention first is her sonority: full bodied, vibrant, absolutely marvellous. It is a ‘deep’ sonority, and that sets the tone of her whole approach.
I think Lautenbacher is one of the very last players that approached Bach’s music in a spirit of religiosity; whether she is religious or not I don’t know and it does not matter. The important point is that she aims at the absolute, at the very core of absolute feeling of Bach’s partias and sonatas.
You are not invited to enjoy yourself: you are invited to a ceremony, and a deeply serious one. By serious I do not mean boring. I mean sacred, in the sense that you are about to participate in the mysteries of existence: you will be submerged by emotions that are no longer fashionable: the very Christian mixture of catharsis through suffering, this suffering being of the utmost beauty. In fact, rather like the feeling one was supposed to experience during the Passion and especially Good Friday.
I supposed many professional music writers will declare her version ‘romantic’. But in fact this is a poor description. When we say that Szeryng, Grummiaux, Milstein or Lautenbacher are romantic we are talking nonsense: the first two were, if anything, classical players; Milstein is an expressionist; Lautenbacher is more mystic. What happens is that we are swallowing Harnoncourt’s propaganda.
During the 60ies and 70ies, Harnoncourt addressed baroque music as counter-distinct from the ‘romanticism’ (‘a mixture of genius and ignorance’ he claimed) of his rivals (all the other players). His was a very abrupt style, very much in keeping with the political violence of the later part of the 20th Century. All the emotions that were cultivated by former musicians were reduced to ‘briskness’. Tenderness, Boisterous Joy, Mysticism, Heroism (in random order) were totally ‘off’. This may stem from rock and roll – I don’t really know – or from modernism. But the fact is that Harnoncourt’s propaganda gave us a lesser Bach, sometimes very good, sometimes very poor.
Leonhardt countered this trend while sitting at its middle: he substituted sadness by tragedy and tenderness by sensuous playing (his early recordings were, musically speaking, rather poor; he then used marvelously beautiful – if historically inaccurate – instruments which he played with a lot of sensuality). When he plays the organ there is a kind of almost ‘Zen’ mysticism which is very taking.
So, together, Harnoncourt and Leonhardt made baroque music express a different thing from their predecessors. They claimed that it was the ‘right’ expression of emotions. But it is not, or at least I do not believe in it: briskness, tragedy, sensuous feeling, static mysticism are all characteristics of the generation that bought Das Alte Werk records: the young persons that were cultivated but wanted to reject Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, even Mozart and Beethoven. It is too much of a coincidence that Harnoncourt and Leonhardt were Right and at the right place at the right time: to me they are just products of an epoch. I do not mean to say they are bad musicians: Leonhardt is a brilliant musician.
What I do mean is that Lautenbacher’s version has everything to be labelled ‘romantic’ but is every bit as genuine as the ‘politically correct’ Das Alte Werk school. Also, listening to Lautenbacher, you may be able to experience something that is, nowadays, almost forbidden: the mystical participation of music making.