The Cello Suites: In Search of a Baroque Masterpiece [Paperback]

Eric Siblin starts this book with his Pauline conversion to the music, after many years as rock critic for a newspaper. For a self-confessed neophyte in this elaborate world, he seems remarkably sure about the quality of his own insight thereafter.

It starts when he describes a visit to a recital, where he speaks disparagingly of the way classical music events are staged and presented. Mainly they appear to be too stuffy and lacking in sparkle. This rings a little hollow to me as a refugee from rock concerts, where the marshals treat the paying guests like lepers, the band always arrive hours after advertised, the sound is engineered without care for the paying customers, etc etc. Does he not consider that a different type of attending is taking place?

Later he dismisses the whole of the historically-informed performance movement, describing it as musical "fascisim". He parrots the old chestnuts about dry, scholarly performances without soul. With his vast several weeks of experience in this music he knows where its heart lies, and sees fit to dismiss in one line the efforts of many studious, well-trained musicians who have thought long and hard about their approach to it. There are long and complex arguments to be made both for and against historically-informed performance, but Siblin engages with none of these and dismisses it all with one wave of his pen.

I didn't get any further in the book, I'm afraid. There were good things in it, but I had lost patience with the too-familiar cocksure voice of a journalist who knows all about a subject and its moral core after a few months' study.

It's delightful that Eric Siblin discovered Bach, and like converts in so many fields, became obsessed. He took his new obsession to journalistic heights and depths, spending about ten years putting this story together. He has done a very entertaining job, weaving the stories of Bach and Casals through the structure of the six cello suites. A unique approach that is refreshingly different.

I have some quibbles, like when he describes how Bach died without a will on one page, but then goes on to describe how Bach bequeathed specific instruments and manuscripts to specific sons he favored. Well, which is it? Did Bach die intestate, or did he leave a highly detailed will? Or how Bach never went to Italy, which limited his renown in his time. It is my understanding that Bach made at least three trips to Italy, and all of them to see what Antonio Vivaldi was up to. Bach lifted liberally from Vivaldi, and sometimes even credited Vivaldi in pieces directly adapted and dedicated to him. Siblin mentions the lack of any Italy forage twice, which is something he does a lot - mentioning things twice, as if his gentle readers could not be expected to remember the last time he brought it up. So the book is not perfect (and a couple of typos don't help, which is surprising for a book that was published in Canada a year ago), but these are, I repeat myself, quibbles. It's a delightful read.

Another quibble, perhaps, is Siblin's website. What a perfect place to put clips of the themes he tries to describe. Words have never lived up to the effect of actual music, and today we have the technology to make it happen. Notes, chords, bars and melodies fairly scream to be demonstrated online, with references back to their pages in the book. Instead, Siblin has embedded Youtube videos of bizarrely unusual Bach cello performances but not including any of Pablo Casals, the worthy subject of numerous Youtube clips, not to mention this book. I don't get it, and Siblin's readers are left behind.

One thing Siblin regrets is that events he goes to are attended by a lot of white haired Caucasians plus a few students. It does not portend good things for classical music. He complains about the mandatory silence during the performance and the protocol against applause until the end. I can only say that he would have written another whole book had he seen Virgil Fox. Fox, the Riverside Church (NYC) organist, took Bach on tour in a concert series called Bach Live - Heavy Organ. He used strobe lights, giant screens and smoke to enhance the effects, and audiences responded with wild applause, including clapping to the beat during the pieces, calling out to him from their seats, and in every performance I saw, climbing onto the stage to dance the Gigue fugue. He recorded LPs live at the Fillmore and the Winter Garden, and appealed directly to a whole new demographic.

That's the secret of Bach - he appeals to different people for different reasons with different results - but he always appeals.

Taking into account the above opinions of this debut book, I would like to reiterate the fact that this is a highly readable account of the myriad stories which lay behind the cello suites, and this is certainly a subject which the author feels passionate about. Indeed, the suites have the potential to affect people in great ways. This music is so stunningly beautiful that it can bring tears to eyes. And yet, like much of Bach's music, we do not know the nitty-gritt details about why and for whom they were written. The author traces the genesis and revelations of this dramatic music from Baroque Germany to WWII.

Siblin is a journalist and so we can expect a somewhat relaxed and casual tone. However, he is well-informed and quite clearly has an abiding passion for these beautiful suites. The prose concerning Bach's life is especially fluid and I found those parts particularly enjoyable. However, there is an organisation at work here where the contents of the book seem a little scattered - for example after reading about Bach's time in Cothen, where he composed these pieces - we jump forward to war-torn Spain. This is interesting but once you have been following the thread of Bach's life in such a care-free manner (in contrast to the incredible dense and difficult biographies proper concerning this composer) to be dislocated to modern-day Spain is a juxtaposition too far. However, it seems necessary to the general oultine to which Siblin is pointing: that the trials and tribulations of Bach's life are somehow mirrored in those of Casals, the cellist who is thankfully responsible for resurrecting this music.

For those who are deeply interested in Bach and especially the cello suites this cannot fail to stimulate and fascinate. Yet, there is no real ground-breaking information provided here (aside from a couple of v interesting facts about Friedmann Bach, Bach's eldest son, and the fate of his daughter, leading to the story of Bach descendents in the USA) and the book relies heavily on a meandering story which is fuelled by Siblin's passion and dedication to these suites, which is largely admirable. Our expectations should not be too high; this is a very personal journey for all concerned. Bach, Casals and Siblin all come to light here warts and all in a very lucid account of what drives men to create and perform.

The suites have long been considered some sort of elixir and countless performers have committed their renditions to disc and just as Bach's music evolves internally so too do the interpretations of this music, and I get the feeling that this book is Siblin's attempt at clarifying the contents of this music which is so powerful and humane. The mysteries of Bach are endless and we should cherish the fact that this music is available to us. In the book there is a very apt description which seems to identify the mystic and sensual soul behind this music: `One feels a colossus in chains, a giant endeavouring to adjust his powers to the limitations of his medium of expression'. (Godowsky)

Just don't try listening to the suites whilst reading the book - you will get nowhere!!