Tomás Cotik: Bach: The Six Suites
Centaur

The act of transcription invariably involves decision-making of a personal kind, but it's Tomás Cotik's thoughtfully considered approach to interpretation that is the more critical factor in his violin treatment of J. S. Bach's Six Cello Suites. Cotik's liner notes reveal that his choices are rooted in scholarship as opposed to personal whim, and the arguments he presents argue compellingly on behalf of the approach adopted. Composed between 1717 and 1723, the suites are regarded as one of Bach's crowning achievements and for cellists a work as iconic as The Goldberg Variations is for pianists. Interestingly, though, the cello suites weren't always as popular as they are today. Cotik notes, for example, that for over 150 years the work was largely forgotten until a then-young Pablo Casals rediscovered the material in 1889 and went on to make his influential recordings. Three hundred years removed from their creation, questions remain about details such as bowings, dynamics, and articulation, issues that every interpreter must grapple with anew.

Providing historical background, Cotik writes that the suites, along with numerous other pieces, were likely created during the composer's tenure as chapel master in Köthen for Prince Leopold. Bach's second wife, Anna Magdalena Wiken, made a copy of the work which, as his original autograph has been lost, is the manuscript now consulted. While it clarifies certain details, it leaves others open for discussion, such as the precise chronology of the suites and the dates of their composition. Their structural design and order is clear, however: each comprises six movements, with the first, second, third, fourth, and sixth parts a “Prélude,” “Allemande,” “Courante,” “Sarabande,” and “Gigue,” respectively. The wild card is the fifth movement, which features “Menuets” in the first and second suites, “Bourrées” in the third and fourth, and “Gavottes” in the fifth and sixth. In each case, the “Prélude” is followed by dance-inspired treatments that reflect the rhythmic character of the identified dances.

In keeping with Bach, a regular transcriber of his own music as well as that of other composers, Cotik has followed others who created their own transcriptions of the cello suites. Versions for piano, viola, flute, and even marimba and ukulele have been produced by those eager to make the material available to non-cellists. For his treatment, Cotik transposed five of the suites into different keys, with only the sixth, written originally for a five-string instrument, staying in D Major. He based his transcriptions on the edition by Werner Icking and largely hews to Anna Magdalena's manuscript. It's here where questions arise, specifically about the accuracy of her bow markings and how reliable they are when compared to manuscripts of the work by others.

Using a Baroque bow, Cotik's attack is generally light, buoyant, and fluid, performance qualities that amplify the dance aspect of the work. Rubato is prevalent, as are strong phrasing and articulation. Vibrato and trills, on the other hand, aren't omnipresent but instead judiciously applied. The 126-minute release, spread across two CDs and recorded in 2021 at Portland State University, catches fire immediately with a heartfelt rendition of the first suite's haunting and justifiably well-known prelude. The Marc de Sterke violin (2000) veritably sings in Cotik's hands as he gives voice to the keening expressions of the opening movement, the graceful acrobatics of the second, the nimble dance gestures of the radiant third, the dignified melancholy of the fourth, the rousing figures of the fifth, and the authoritative declamations of the sixth. He gives passionate voice to the melancholy of the second suite's “Prélude” and “Sarabande” while also expertly navigating the melodic leaps and bounds of its energized “Allemande,” spirited “Gigue,” and high-velocity “Courante.” Whereas the third's “Prélude” plays like a towering epic distilled into a four-minute framework, its touching “Sarabande” teems with double-stopped entreaties and its “Bourrées” and “Gigue” exultant utterances.

Improvisation seemingly works its way into passages of the fourth's prelude, one more way by which the performer, be it Cotik or otherwise, can't avoid marking the music with an individual signature. Testifying to his command of the instrument, the violinist executes the material throughout with seeming effortlessness and, as the fourth suite's “Courante” and “Sarabande” illustrate, is as adept at delivering a rousing dance movement as a plaintive one. An undercurrent of sadness is audible in the prelude that initiates the G minor fifth suite (transposed from C minor) and in the “Sarabande,” though that's merely one emotional facet of the suite when the “Gavottes” and “Gigue” are so animated by comparison. The longest of the suites at twenty-five minutes, the D major sixth could be regarded as a microcosm of the whole when its movements are so engaging and encompassing. Brace yourself for the high speed of the “Courante” and the unbridled joy of the “Gavottes.”

January 2024