Maya Beiser: InfInIte Bach
Islandia Music Records

Sæunn Thorsteinsdottir: Marrow: The 6 Suites by J. S. Bach
Sono Luminus

These recent recordings of the six solo cello suites by J. S. Bach (1685-1750) offer a fascinating study in comparison and contrast. Two things in particular separate the versions by Icelandic cellist Sæunn Thorsteinsdóttir and her American counterpart Maya Beiser, born to an Argentinean father and French mother and raised in Israel: first, Thorsteinsdóttir's ninety-minute take's dwarfed by Beiser's 160-minute treatment; second, whereas Thorsteinsdóttir's is traditional in approach, InfInIte Bach is, in keeping with Beiser's nature, radical, not in terms of interpretation but rather production and presentation. The cellists honour the work and composer by staying faithful to the material yet also impose their respective personalities upon it.

Both bring accomplished backgrounds to the project, each boasting an impressive performance history and discography. Discovered by violinist Isaac Stern when she was twelve, Beiser's long been a promoter of new music, innovative production concepts, and contemporary composers, from David Lang and Philip Glass to Louis Andriessen and Julia Wolfe. The Reykjavik-born Thorsteinsdóttir has performed as a soloist with orchestral ensembles around the world and has released other material on Sono Luminus besides Marrow, including Vernacular, a solo album of Icelandic music for cello. She's currently based in Ohio where she teaches cello at the Cincinnati College-Conservatory.

Written between 1717 and 1723, the suites share a common structure, with each following a “Prelude” with baroque dances, an “Allemande,” “Courante,” “Sarabande,” and “Gigue”; it's in the fifth position that variety emerges, with a “Minuet,” “Gavotte,” or “Bourée” (a pair at a time) appearing in different suites. Thorsteinsdóttir performs them in sequence; Beiser's appear in a 1-3-2-5-4-6 order.

Inspired in part by Alvin Lucier's influential I am sitting in a room (1969), Beiser and longtime sound engineer Dave Cook decided to make the space within which the suites were recorded—her converted barn in the Berkshires, Massachusetts—a key factor in the production design. By positioning microphones throughout the environment to amplify overtones and reverberations, Beiser generated sonorities that imbue the material with ethereal, ghostly, and unearthly qualities. One visualizes her playing within this large environment and responding to the music as it rebounded—a feedback loop, as it were. In finalizing the mix, the pair attempted to make the recording as enveloping and three-dimensional as possible so listeners could feel as if the music's happening around them as opposed to originating from a single place.

The familiar arpeggios of the “Prélude” from the Suite no. 1 in G major BWV 1007 take on additional resonance when presented in such a manner, and the fluidity and control with which Beiser executes the patterns boost its impact. What follows is as haunting, the eloquent majesty of the “Sarabande” in particular. Having leapfrogged the second suite for the C major third, the cellist beguiles with a rhapsodic reading of its “Prélude” and an an entrancingly slow “Sarabande.” Backtracking, the Suite no. 2 in D minor BWV 1008 is crowned by a plaintive “Prélude” and aching “Sarabande”; jumping ahead, the C minor fifth is famous for its elegiac “Sarabande,” which Yo-Yo May performed at NYC's World Trade Centre site on the first anniversary of the 9/11 attacks as the names of the victims were read; here especially the production design makes itself felt in the reverberating drones that underscore Beiser's bowing. The Suite no. 4 in E flat major BWV 1010 entices with a lilting “Prélude” and buoyant “Courante” and “Bourées,” after which the D major sixth—characterized, apparently, by Mstislav Rostropovich as "a symphony for solo cello”—caps the set with a rapturous “Prélude,” tender “Allemande,” and magnificent “Sarabande.” Never is Beiser's playing more haunting than in this final suite.

In liner notes, Beiser alludes to the conviction held by some that Bach's wife, Anna Magdalena (1701-60), was the uncredited composer of the suites, a detail that only adds to the work's mystique. That notion aside, the cellist's statement that her treatment of Bach's iconic work is “transgressive” isn't inaccurate, but, thankfully, the word refers in this case to presentation, not so much interpretation. While she does recast it, production-wise, in a new light, her probing reading of the material shouldn't upset traditionalists.

The reason why one version is so much shorter than the other is easily explained: Thorsteinsdóttir's eschews repeats, and consequently her eighteen-minute rendering of the sixth suite, to cite one example, is thirty-three on Beiser's. Still, while the Icelandic cellist doesn't luxuriate in the material as much as her counterpart, the recording never feels incomplete: Marrow simply registers as a compact expression that gets directly to the heart of the matter. That the production aspect of her version is less a factor than it is on the other doesn't make Thorsteinsdottir's any less compelling either. Listening attention focuses entirely on the musical material and its rendering thereof, and the project doesn't suffer as a result. Incidentally, she chose Marrow as the title to emphasize how deeply she's absorbed the suites and how profound a part they've played in her life. Referring to them as her “steady companion,” she acknowledges the impact they had initially as a means for developing technical proficiency and subsequently to explore individual expression and interpretation.

Thorsteinsdottir's affection for the material is evident the second the stirring “Prélude” introduces the first suite, but her personalized expression also makes clear her approach isn't overly reverential. It's also immediately apparent that her primary focus is to give voice to the humanity of the material and not merely give it a technically sound reading. The cellist's commentaries are as concise as her performances, with the first suite deemed “innocent” and the second conveying “the first taste of bitter disappointment.” Whereas for her optimism and boldness permeate the third and fourth, respectively, she hears “dark tragedy” in the fifth and “glorious redemption” in the sixth. Highlighting fundamental tonal differences facilitates a reading that sees a narrative arc crystallize. Certainly a dramatic change in mood is audible when the effervescent “Gigue” of the first suite is followed by the stately solemnity of the “Prélude” in the second and the deep melancholy of its “Sarabande.” Consistent with her assessment, the clouds do noticeably part for the radiant Suite No. 3 in C major, BWV 1009, whether it be the carefree “Allemande,” spirited “Courante,” or breezy “Bourrée I / II.”

As a solo presentation, Thorsteinsdottir's pure, vocal-like tone is front and centre, and her dexterity on the instrument lets the music sing, whether it be an expression of joy or sadness. The “Prélude” that initiates the Suite No. 4 in E-flat major, BWV 1010 and its “Courante” are particularly striking, and her riveting renditions of the fourth's plaintive “Sarabande” and fifth's stately “Allemande” are affecting too. Being the final one in the series, the Suite No. 6 in D major, BWV 1012 holds a special status. While the bountiful “Prélude” and acrobatic “Courante” dazzle, its supplicating “Sarabande” pierces the heart. Any number of recordings of the suites are available, but these by Beiser and Thorsteinsdottir can take their rightful place among them.

August 2023