LENNY CAVALLARO: Perhaps we can begin with a discussion of your most recent recording: the Bach Sonatas for Violin and Clavier, which are certainly monumental in the development of chamber music for the two instruments.
ANAÏS CHEN: Absolutely. They are among the most complicated pieces I have ever studied. Above and beyond the technical challenges, the music is truly interwoven among what are effectively three voices. It’s as though the two musicians actually perform three parts, since the harpsichord plays both the accompanying continuo part and its own melodic voice. The complexity is heightened, because as soon as one performer takes even the slightest freedom or initiative, the other must be extremely aware, know exactly what is going on, and make the appropriate adjustments. Thus, these six sonatas are far more challenging than his sonatas with only the continuo, which were far more common before Bach. In fact, in some ways they are even more difficult than his unaccompanied partitas and sonatas.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Really? How so?
ANAÏS CHEN: When one is playing with one or more colleagues, one may have moments of spontaneity, and with the Bach sonatas these can be effective only if both performers are listening very carefully to one another, poised to respond appropriately.
LENNY CAVALLARO: I understand. I think that’s the sort of thing we see more with truly skillful baroque performance. It’s the intensity with which one needs to listen, since with a style so concerned with articulation and phrasing, if one player does something with an important motif, the other must usually answer accordingly.
ANAÏS CHEN: Absolutely! Moreover, the harpsichordist must sometimes almost split into two performers, where one hand takes some rhythmic liberties, while the other is somewhat more steady. Then there are the ensemble problems. For but one example, in the F-sharp minor movement [third movement of the A Major sonata – ed.] we did not feel the freedom of motion the same way initially, so we had to try it again to resolve our differences and determine what we wanted to take out of the music.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Which you did most successfully. I also like what you said, because with baroque pieces, we really don’t put expression into the music, but must instead think in terms of “taking it out.” This can indeed be very difficult. However, as one who takes so much out of these sonatas, do you have a favorite?
ANAÏS CHEN: I have favorite movements: for example, the opening of the E Major.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Ah, that long line, which only Bach could have written. For me, it’s the opening of the B minor.
ANAÏS CHEN: Yes, that one, also. In fact, I love most of the slow movements.
LENNY CAVALLARO: When will you record the solo works?
ANAÏS CHEN: I’ve performed some, not all of them, and recorded only a few movements.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Notably, the Adagio of the G Minor, which is exquisite, and the famous “Chaconne” from the D Minor is on your website.
ANAÏS CHEN: Nevertheless, I would need to “isolate” myself to prepare for such an undertaking.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Well, I hope you do, based on what I’ve heard. Of course, certain works for solo violin are simply “monumental” by any standard, and I would place those six unaccompanied Bach compositions and the Paganini Capricci in that elite category.
However, that project leads us to another topic. While your Bach – on period instrument – is absolutely gorgeous, your true passion seems to be music from the late Renaissance/early baroque, which is even less familiar to the public. I must say your Palestrina/Rognoni moved me immensely. “Io son ferito” (“I am wounded”) is the Palestrina madrigal. Did Rognoni actually write out all those marvelous – and totally violinistic – embellishments?
ANAÏS CHEN: This one is actually written out in his treatise. It was presented as an example of how to engage in this practice with art and mastery, but one can also learn to do so on one’s own.
Francesco Rognoni was not the only one who wrote a treatise. Bovicelli, Dalla Casa, Riccardo Rognoni (Francesco’s uncle), and Silvestro Ganassi all explained the art of “diminution.” Ganassi’s, which is the earliest (1535), presented truly complicated rhythmic patterns, including quintuplets and septuplets. The complexity of these figurations leads us to believe they had probably been in practice in the oral tradition for many years before Ganassi wrote them down in his first treatise, since they had evolved so extensively.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Fascinating. I would have assumed they used only duple- or triple-meter figurations: 3, 4, 6, 8, etc. We don’t generally see septuplets until the 20th century.
Of course, I’m also most impressed by the remarkable improvisation itself. It is clearly a lost art. I expect the performer (violin, oboe, or other) to embellish around what I have written, sometimes spontaneously. However, only those trained in and comfortable with baroque improvisation can do so. Similarly, in performance today – particularly in recording – we see far more of the metronomic precision, and far less willingness to take chances.
ANAÏS CHEN: I totally agree. I think the public will notice if the musicians are taking risks, and in a live concert they really appreciate those moments when something unique is happening.
LENNY CAVALLARO: True, although it doesn’t win competitions. Nevertheless, I’m far more interested in what the performer has to convey, what he/she projects, and what is taken out of this music. When I performed, I always hoped someone in the audience had been moved emotionally, and when I attended a concert, I wanted to be moved to tears myself. Even if the performance itself is less than technically flawless, the “magic” can occur.
ANAÏS CHEN: Exactly. It’s all about communication. I really enjoy those special moments, and it is a true triumph when a few people come up after a concert and tell me how much they were touched by the performance.
LENNY CAVALLARO: Unfortunately, no discussion of “performances” can evade the essential question of today’s concert halls and the programs usually offered in them. You are very passionate about this late Renaissance, early baroque music. Unfortunately, many people assume music more or less began with Bach. This is utter nonsense; without his predecessors, there would have been no Bach! Is there anything you think might help audiences grow to appreciate it? Of course, one should immediately note that most people might not “understand” this music, but how many people truly “understand” the late Beethoven string quartets or Bach’s Art of the Fugue? These masterpieces are monumentally difficult, yet they are occasionally programmed – certainly far more than the music you most love.
ANAÏS CHEN: I’ve spoken with concert directors, who seem impressed by the work we do yet insist that because their audiences are too conservative, they simply cannot program anything so unusual. Thus, what my colleagues and I are trying to do is simply to make this music more popular by sharing it on the Internet. We are in the process of preparing more videos, in the hope that over time a broader audience will come to appreciate this repertoire. I didn’t know anything about this art before I began to study early music and period instruments. The first step is just to get the music “out there” and hopefully better known by people (especially concert organizers). If and when they begin to appreciate its beauty, they will be more willing to hear it in concert and program it! It’s a little better in Italy, because it’s part of their heritage, but even here it’s rare. It also helps to present it in the beautiful church of San Martino a Luco, near Poggibonsi, Tuscany.
LENNY CAVALLARO: That must be a wonderful place to perform, record, and listen. You have made a truly audacious leap into the early baroque, especially with such magnificent recordings as “Io son ferito.” Surely this music should be heard, so are there other reasons why we find resistance on the part of organizers to program such repertoire?
ANAÏS CHEN: Unfortunately, while some performers are truly committed to the early styles, we also find those who have become involved more out of convenience than genuine dedication to and love of the art. Sadly, because people are not so familiar with – and generally don’t even know – the repertoire, they do not always choose the best performances and recordings, and thus may be less than enthusiastic about what they hear.
LENNY CAVALLARO: That’s disappointing.
ANAÏS CHEN: However, it’s quite true for the entire period. We have some musicians who play only baroque repertoire, but clearly fall short of contemporary professional standards. We also have those who are actually well-educated but have been in too much of a hurry to declare themselves “baroque specialists,” and have ended up playing even worse on the period instrument than they would on contemporary ones. These performers don’t really comprehend how older instruments were supposed to be played and would surely have better results if they continued to use modern ones. As we can see, it’s not merely the instrument after all, but one’s overall approach to the music.
LENNY CAVALLARO: I’ve certainly heard some disappointing performances on period instruments, and I’m sure they’ve done little to encourage new audiences. However, I suspect a larger factor is your comment about how many concert organizers are simply reluctant to program works with which the audiences are almost totally unfamiliar. People know Bach’s Brandenburg Concerti, so it’s “safe” to have an orchestra and soloists perform them, even on period instruments. But something like the Palestrina/Rognoni may seem too risky. And in fairness, concert managers tend to be rather “conservative” in the classical sense: “resistant to change.” It’s the nature of the beast.
ANAÏS CHEN: However, there is so much to discover about earlier music, and it is important that we do so. For those who are skeptical, I should add that this early music greatly expands our understanding of the glorious late baroque music that followed it. From these works we can learn so much more about instrumental technique, sound production, ornamentation, general aesthetics, notation – and remember that many things were not notated, or else notated in a different manner than the one with which we are familiar.
Moreover, we are fortunate to have some instrumental and diminution treatises. These demonstrate how a lot of ornamentation was added to the actual, rather blank score. They also present articulation and phrasing in painstaking detail, imitating as much as possible good singers who are delivering a text expressively and with clear pronunciation. This information is important, and without it, performers simply cannot understand significant parts of the music. And even after all that, we are left with what I call “personal gaps,” which we can fill in only by practicing on period instruments (or modern copies of period instruments). With these we learn many things that are not in the treatises, and which must be discovered by actually playing. Indeed, I fell completely in love with baroque violin the first time I handled one. Even though it was a rather poor instrument, I was immediately able to gain insight as to why I had struggled so much even with the music of Mozart, to say nothing of compositions written earlier. On a modern instrument, I simply could not do what I wanted to do, yet on a baroque violin, everything felt natural.
Keeping all this in mind, I am trying to present programs that include not only the familiar – those famous and well-known composers – but also some of the less familiar. It is important to realize that the “giants,” as we perceive them, did not emerge out of nothing. Moreover, those masters who composed before Bach are by no means “inferior.” We can find exquisite art long before Bach and Handel.
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