Of all the famous figures in the world of classical music, the genius and talents of J.S. Bach seem to tower above all the rest. We could even go so far as to call him the father of classical music, and of ‘modern music’ in general. And although he was not the first to introduce the idea of ‘pure music’ (instrumental music) to the world, as others had already begun this process in the Renaissance era, we could say that he raised the bar to such a degree in this field that he set the standard for everything that was to come. But Bach was also a highly religious man, and his works were not limited to exploring and pushing the boundaries of purely instrumental music; he also wrote numerous works of a devotional nature: some for Protestant liturgical functions and others which were more akin to Biblically-themed program music.
However, even though Bach is now considered one of the greatest musicians of all time, and of an unparallelled musical aptitude, not everyone in his day thought so. In fact, some of the greatest music in the classical tradition came about as a rection to Bach’s musical style (Hayden and Mozart to name a couple). Infinitely complex and illustriously ornate, Bach’s musical idiom was sophisticated to say the least, and did not always find a warm welcome among his fellow musicians or the general populace. But criticizing Bach for his own genius is about as ridiculous as hurling insults at Shakespeare for writing in a manner which was beautifully adorned, if not sometimes difficult to penetrate.
The key feature of Bach’s singular musical voice is his persistent use of the musical texture known as polyphony, also referred to as counterpoint. Defined most simply, polyphony is a musical technique in which two or more melodies are played simultaneously. This is quite pleasing to the ear, although it remains ominously perplexing to the brain. And I imagine it is the perplexity piece that caused a lot of Bach’s contemporaries to rail against his constant use of polyphony in his arrangements.
Now polyphony comes in two main varieties: imitative and non-imitative. Imitative polyphony is rather self-explanatory: this consists of two (or more) simultaneous melodies within a piece of music, which are played at different intervals of time (so as not to be played in unison) but which are either identical or very similar melodically. This creates a kind of kaleidoscopic melodic mirroring within the music, which is quite beautiful to behold. Imitative polyphony comes in two varieties which are known as strict imitative polyphony and non-strict imitative polyphony. Strict imitative polyphony occurs when the two melodic lines are an exact replica of each other, yet are separated temporally, so as to be a perfect imitation of each other. Non-strict imitative polyphony is when two similar melodic lines are played simultaneously (yet entering at different intervals of time), which still creates an effect of melodic imitation, but is not an absolute repetition of the same melody, creating more musical variety between the two melodies. Non-imitative polyphony, on the other hand, is a mode of polyphony in which two or more independent melodies are played simultaneously, with each melody remaining distinct (hence, the melodies do not ‘imitate’ each other), yet still contributing to the whole of the music when played together.
Of the different forms of counterpoint, Bach most certainly favored polyphony of the imitative variety, and in particular he gave precedence to non-strict imitative polyphony. We know this from the fact that one of his favorite methods of musical composition was the fugue, a form which relies almost entirely upon a creative application of non-strict imitative polyphony within a given piece of music. In fact, the fugal form relies so heavily on this contrapuntal technique of non-strict imitative polyphony that if you removed it from the equation the fugue itself would cease to exist. And since the piece of music under review here (but which has yet to be revealed, except through the title,) is a collection of fugues, it will do us well to briefly examine how a fugue is composed before we move on to the work itself: The Well-Tempered Clavier.
As the fugue is a highly technical polyphonic process, it follows a rather unique pattern in its structure and execution. Beginning with a single melodic idea, which is termed the fugue subject, the composer introduces this subject in numerous ‘voices’ (most fugues have three voices, which are distinguished by their range: alto, soprano, and bass). The piece will start with one of the voices stating the melody with no accompaniment. Then, a second voice will come in, and state the same theme (or ‘subject’), while the first voice plays a countermelody. Finally, the third voice will enter and state the subject once more, while the other voice (or voices) juxtaposes a polyphonic melodic line. This opening section of the fugue, in which the theme is stated in all three voices, is known as the fugue exposition.
Following the exposition comes the development section of the fugue. During the development, there will be multiple restatements of the fugue subject interspersed with what are termed ‘episodes’. Episodes are transitional musical passages which are based on motives (melodic fragments) derived from the fugue subject that are used to transition to different musical keys. Thus, when the fugue subject is repeated in toto it will sound all the more pristine when it is restated in a new tonal center. And so, the episodes provide a way for the restatements of the fugue subject during the development section to carry a lot of weight. It is also during the development section that the composer will reconstruct the fugue theme in endless ways, employing contrapuntal devices galore. The development section is the heart of the fugue, so to speak.
The final and closing section of a fugue will generally consist of a restatement of the fugue subject back in the tonic key, after all of the explorations and modulations that occurred during the development. Sometimes, before this restatement of the fugue subject in the tonic, a stretto section will be employed. A stretto is a polyphonic musical device in which the entry of the fugue subject in the second voice overlaps with the first voice before the first voice has finished stating the fugue subject. This creates tension in the music, leading up to the final restatement of the fugue subject back in the home key. Some fugues will also have a coda, after the final return to the tonic key, in which cadential material is employed, lending a sense of finality and conclusion.
Now that we are aware of what a fugue is, we can move on to The Well Tempered Clavier in particular. But before we move beyond the title too quickly, it would serve us well to ask a simple question: what is a ‘well-tempered clavier’, anyway? Well, a clavier is an instrument with a keyboard, and in Bach’s heyday, that would have been either the harpsicord or the organ. Although the piano was invented during Bach’s lifetime, it was not perfected until after his death, and he never lived long enough to integrate the piano into his compositional process. In the case of The Well Tempered Clavier, the work was intended for the harpsicord, an instrument which was popular during the Baroque period but which did not survive the test of time and is now played only by enthusiasts and musicologists. Most modern recordings of Bach’s masterwork are, in fact, played on the piano (much to my own relief, as I do not have much patience for the harpsicord). So, in short, a clavier is any instrument of the keyboard variety.
The second question that Bach’s title begs, and which has a much more complex answer is: what does ‘well-tempered’ mean? Ah! Glad you asked. ‘Well-tempered’ refers to a tuning method Bach was fond of, and which was meant to be used if one was playing the music contained in The Well Tempered Clavier. In fact, the way in which the music is written demands that the so called ‘well-tempered’ turning system be employed; otherwise, most of the music which is written becomes unplayable (at least during that period of history). While this sounds like poppycock to those of us who have never lived a day in the world without the invention of the pianoforte and its subsequent ‘twelve-tone equal temperament tuning’, it certainly would have made sense to the musicians living in Bach’s time.
The reason for this is based on the tuning system that was in use during Bach’s day, known as ‘meantone tuning’. But before we explain what meantone tuning is, or why Bach disliked it, we first need to express why there have been various methods for tuning a keyboard down the centuries. You see, when tuning a keyboard, it is not possible to produce the mathematically perfect ratios necessary to have the musical intervals (distance between the notes) sound absolutely consonant. Therefore, different turning systems have been adopted in order to try and solve this dilemma, all of which seek a form of compromise which is at once both palpable and practical.
The route chosen by meantone tuning, in an attempt to solve the crisis of intervallic consonance, relied on a method which produced beautifully consonant major thirds (musical interval that defines whether a chord is major or minor) at the expense of the perfect fifth interval (also an interval which is essential to building chords known as triads). What this meant practically was that in a few choice keys, music sounded good; chords were bright and lush, on account of the harmonic stability of the major thirds. However, this consonance was limited only to certain keys, while others became very dissonant, especially at the interval of the perfect fifth, producing what was called the ‘wolf fifth’ (a term used to describe the horrible dissonance created by the perfect fifth interval in meantone turning). For many musicians, like Bach, this meantone system proved too limited, as keyboardist had only a handful of keys to play from, even though the instrument had the theoretical potential to sound in all keys, if only the proper tuning system were discovered.
Thus enters the ‘well-tempered’ system. Whereas meantone tuning greatly limited the number of keys that a musician could play in, the well-tempered system expanded the musical horizon by making music playable in all twenty-four keys. By sacrificing the perfectly consonant major third which was so favored by meantone tuning, well-tempered tuning allowed for less dissonance at the perfect fifth interval, completely eliminating the ‘wolf fifth’, as well as the general dissonance which was so prevalent in many keys in meantone. This tuning method also created an interesting, and likely unintended, consequence: while each of the twelve keys (with their respective major and minor) were playable, now they each had their own distinct ‘mood’ based on the slight intervallic variations used within the new tuning system.
Bach, having discovered that the ‘well-tempered’ system was, in fact, a suitable means to play in all keys, became an advocate for its use, and proceeded to write the music contained in The Well Tempered Clavier. In this masterwork, Bach showcased the possibilities which are achievable through this unique tuning system by composing a series of preludes and fugues which go through all twelve keys, both major and minor; a feat that was only possibly during his lifetime using the well-tempered system. Starting with the key of C, Bach writes a respective prelude and fugue for this key, then moves on to C minor, producing another couplet of preludes and fugues. This pattern continues, until Bach has moved through all twelve keys, writing a prelude/fugue combination for each, ending the work in the key of B (minor).
Furthermore, the work is broken down into two different sections (termed ‘books’). Both books follow the same pattern: a prelude and fugue for all twelve keys, both major and minor. However, the first book was composed at an earlier period of his career, while the second book was written much later. We therefore find a more mature Bach in the second book which is a little more experimental in nature and employs techniques such as chromaticism along with a sense greater a rhythmic freedom. However, both books are exquisite, and some of the greatest pieces are found within the pages of Book I.
Although a full analysis of each prelude and fugue within The Well Tempered Clavier is beyond my paygrade, and would have to be done by an accomplished classical musician or musicologist, a few pieces within this collection certainly stood out to my ear as exceptional. Rather oddly, a number of the melodic passages which I found most enchanting actually occur not in the fugues, but in the preludes. However, I believe there is a reason for this. The fugue, whose form we have already described in great detail, places a certain melodic restriction on the composer, because the melodies which are used in this form must contain the potential to be reorganized, varied, and modulated through complex polyphonic processes throughout the piece of music. The prelude on the other hand, whose form is much more fluid and organic (if there is any kind of set form at all) allows for more beautiful melodies to take shape, hence the fact that most of the memorable melodies found in The Well Tempered Clavier occur not in the fugues but the preludes. This does not take away from the splendor of the fugues contained therein, as their perfection lies not so much in the melody per se, but rather in the inventiveness of the counterpoint and craftmanship.
Highlights from The Well Tempered Clavier include: Prelude in C minor, Prelude in C sharp major, Prelude in D major, Prelude in D minor, Fuge in E flat major, Fugue in E major, Fuge in B minor, Prelude in C sharp major, Prelude in C sharp minor, Fugue in C sharp minor, Prelude in D major, Fugue in D minor, Fuge in E flat major, Prelude in E major, Prelude in F major, Prelude in G major, Fuge in A Major, Prelude in A minor, Prelude in B flat major.
*A Note on modern interpretations: Because the technology for recording music did not exist in Bach’s day, we have no way to go back and listen to his own performance. Therefore, we must rely on professional classical musicians to perform and record the music that he has written. And while it may come as a surprise to some, there can actually be a lot of variation in the playing styles of these various interpreters. Likely the most famous and well-respected rendition of The Well Tempered Clavier was recorded by Glenn Gould. However, I am not a fan of the Gould recording as I think it is too heavy handed. I prefer Andra Schiff, whose personal inflections are more restrained, allowing the music to truly speak for itself. However, I would suggest that the reader listen to both and decide for themselves. Another interesting take is done by the jazz genius Keith Jarret.
Further listening:
Bach: Six Suites for Solo Chello, The Bradenburg Concertos, Art of the Fugue, Goldberg Variations
Scarlatti: 52 Sonatas (Debargue)