Concerto Transcriptions

Bach learned a great deal by transcribing the works of other composers. In the era of learning by imitation, there was no more intimate form of flattery than direct transcription. And in the years around 1714 Bach was very interested in the latest string music coming from Italy, specifically the concertos of Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741). Bach made at least nine transcriptions of Vivaldi concertos, including three for solo organ and six for solo harpsichord. His absorption and refinement of the Vivaldian idiom is arguably one of the most significant moments in music history, for it allowed Bach to merge two quite distinct styles: north German contrapuntal richness and Italian virtuosic figuration. The first glimpses of that synthesis appear in the concerto transcriptions, for Bach is rarely content to leave Vivaldi’s material unaltered. Structure continues essentially unchanged, and the themes are always Vivaldi’s own. But Bach makes subtle changes that could easily pass unobserved yet which add to the overall impression.
The Keyboard Concerto in D Minor (BWV 974), based on an oboe concerto in the same key by Alessandro Marcello (1673-1747), achieved wide popularity by virtue of its poignant slow movement. That movement starts with signature dissonant intervals (2nds and 7ths), though our attention gradually turns to the numerous evaded cadences that delay closure until almost the final note. Bach’s main contributions throughout the concerto are to enliven the accompaniment and “flesh out” the spare harmonies of the original. A contemporary of Vivaldi in Venice, Marcello was not a prolific composer. His comfortable situation (he was son of a prominent Venetian senator) allowed him to dabble in various cultural pursuits. Still, the writing in this concerto is assured and, at times, inspired. Little wonder that Bach would choose it for emulation.

The Keyboard Concerto in G Major (BWV 973) follows a model that is classic, almost paradigmatically Vivaldian. Vivaldi’s original work, the Concerto Op. 7 No. 8, is enjoyable, simple, and somewhat predictable. Curiously, it is in transcribing this particular concerto—Vivaldi at his most straightforward and unadventurous—that Bach, too, seems disinclined to embellish. What strikes us as a rather formulaic backdrop upon which to create fantastic embellishments, Bach handles reverentially as nearly note perfect. His transcription unfolds without any noticeable additions or changes. Only in the second movement does Bach’s inspiration appear as a mournful inner voice that leaps up and slowly descends in counterpoint to the melody. The extensive copying of Vivaldi’s material unaltered suggests either that BWV 973 is one of the first such transcriptions or may have been completed largely by a pupil. In either case, it represents transcription at its most literal.
By contrast, Bach’s Keyboard Concerto in G Minor (BWV 975), takes many liberties with its model, which in this case is Vivaldi’s Violin Concerto, Op. 6 No. 4. But as mentioned earlier, those liberties pertain more to style than structure. In the first movement, Bach writes out elaborate rhythmic figures in the melodic line, some of which certainly could have been tastefully added by violinists in performance. This practice, technically referred to as diminution (a kind of rhythmic foreshortening where long melodic notes are transformed into faster embellishments), lies at the heart of much Baroque music. Even where Vivaldi’s gestures are decidedly “violinistic,” as in the upper-note pedal figure appearing near the movement’s close, Bach can elaborate with fuller support below. He departs most clearly from his model in the final movement, titled as a Gigue. Vivaldi’s original brilliant finale in triple time is replaced by an entirely new, equally spirited gigue. Though nothing was wrong with the model, Bach clearly felt called to compose a new conclusion to this compelling concerto.

In all these pieces, one comes face to face with Bach’s inventive mind. Inspiration could be found in innumerable sources, from both his own and others’ music. Rather than simply revising earlier works, which he also did on occasion, Bach used these transcriptions for new instruments to breathe a second wind into music that was already quite exceptional on its own. Now the harmonies are richer and more dramatic, inner voices appear where none previously were heard, melodic passages are lithe and yet virile, playing their spontaneity off against the careful counterpoint below. Particularly with the concerto transcriptions, we can hold “before” and “after” side by side to study how Bach embraced the best of the Italian string idiom. It was a fruitful union, and its ramifications extend to all the keyboard music he would compose in the following decades.

(c) Jason Stell