Bach: The Well-tempered Clavier
Schaghajegh Nosrati
Musical Performance Piano / Solo 0With highly acclaimed recordings of The Art of Fugue and the Piano Partitas, Schaghajegh Nosrati has made a name for herself in recent years as one of the most promising performers of Bach’s keyboard music. “I am not a religious person at all, but in Bach’s music I feel coherence, some greater sense in all of this,” says the young pianist, who has been a faculty member at the Barenboim-Said Akademie since 2020 as assistant to her former teacher Sir András Schiff. In her solo recital, she performs the first volume of The Well-tempered Clavier.
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Johann Sebastian Bach
The Well-tempered Clavier
Band I BWV 846–869 (1722)
I. Präludium und Fuge à 4 C-Dur
II. Präludium und Fuge à 3 c-moll
III. Präludium und Fuge à 3 Cis-Dur
IV. Präludium und Fuge à 5 cis-moll
V. Präludium und Fuge à 4 D-Dur
VI. Präludium und Fuge à 3 d-moll
VII. Präludium und Fuge à 3 Es-Dur
VIII. Präludium und Fuge à 3 es-moll
IX. Präludium und Fuge à 3 E-Dur
X. Präludium und Fuge à 2 e-moll
XI. Präludium und Fuge à 3 F-Dur
XII. Präludium und Fuge à 4 f-moll
XIII. Präludium und Fuge à 3 Fis-Dur
XIV. Präludium und Fuge à 4 fis-moll
XV. Präludium und Fuge à 4 G-Dur
XVI. Präludium und Fuge à 4 g-moll
XVII. Präludium und Fuge à 4 As-Dur
XVIII. Präludium und Fuge à 4 gis-moll
XIX. Präludium und Fuge à 3 A-Dur
XX. Präludium und Fuge à 4 a-moll
XXI. Präludium und Fuge à 3 B-Dur
XXII. Präludium und Fuge à 5 b-moll
XXIII. Präludium und Fuge à 4 H-Dur
XXIV. Präludium und Fuge à 3 h-moll
Bach’s works are the main focus of your repertoire, yet you also perform Rachmaninoff, Anton Rubinstein’s piano concertos, or virtuoso pieces by Charles-Valentin Alkan. How do you reconcile these worlds?
I consider Bach a kind of starting point, and I think you’ll have an easier time finding your way around other styles once you’ve played his music. I find the opposite route difficult—it’s hard to get from Rachmaninoff to Bach. And if you feel at home with Bach, even the highly virtuoso pieces seem far less complex, even technically. But how can anything compare to this great music anyway? To my mind, Bach remains unrivalled: he was the most perfect of all composers. Needless to say, there are interesting and worthwhile things to be found in the works of other composers—in that sense, it has helped me that I’ve always had an open-mindedness and tolerance towards all kinds of music, perhaps because of my first teacher, Rainer Maria Klaas. While I was studying with him, I also played a lot of New Music and unknown pieces, without fear of what was nothing more than names to me then.
You began your series of recordings more than six years ago with Bach’s The Art of Fugue, now followed by The Well-tempered Clavier. Wouldn’t most people choose the opposite approach?
Yes, certainly. The reason is very simply that I encountered The Art of Fugue very early in life as a teenager. It never let me go, so I’ve had a long time to explore it. Of course I had also played a lot of individual pieces by Bach before that. But with The Art of Fugue, it was actually the first time I learned and performed an entire cycle. So choosing it for my first recording was a question
of inner necessity to me. The other day, I discovered an old family video. I was ten, sitting on the sofa and reading, and in the background one can hear The Art of Fugue. Apparently we were listening to this music from very early on at home.
Do you recall your first encounter with The Well-tempered Clavier?
I was eight or nine and was allowed to choose one piece from it. So I played the first few measures of each piece and decided to start with the Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp major from Book II. Then came the pair of works in C-sharp minor from Book I. At that age, of course the emotional connection was the deciding factor. Those were the pieces that fascinated me from the very beginning. Just the first of the three themes in the C sharp–minor Fugue, its simplicity and density—I was spellbound. I had a similar experience later with The Art of Fugue, when I felt that the power of the theme was working within me. And that meant that I had to work on it.
What do the fugues of The Well-tempered Clavier mean to you, and how has your understanding of them changed over the years?
I think the fascinating thing for me is the experience of freedom in a fugue. You always think it’s all construction, but in fact almost every fugue also offers great freedom, and they’re all very different. It’s great to discover all those incredible possibilities. Also, the different relationships the fugues and preludes can have: there are pairs of works where you think they are quite contrary; they might be in the same key, but their expressivity and character are very different. One example is G minor: the Prelude has a lyrical, songful element, while the Fugue is very striking and also very dramatic. And then there are pairs of works in which the two are almost interwoven, for example in B major—in character and motifs, both pieces derive from the same origin. These relationships never repeat within the collection in the exact same way. There are parallels and symmetries, but each piece is entirely its own and highly individual.
What does that mean for the interpretation, for example in the very first pair of works?
The C-major pair begins with the Prelude that flows in wave-like motion and is not as burdened by conflict as some of the later ones. The Fugue follows from this; to me it seems all of a piece. Still, it’s very complex, full of demanding contrapuntal techniques; early on, for example, there is already a stretto. The great challenge is to make the complexity audible, but without seeming academic or dogmatic. I’d like to give the audience the chance, even when hearing it for the first time, to grasp as much as possible, without appearing didactic.
At the Pierre Boulez Saal, you’re performing the first part of The Well-tempered Clavier with an intermission following the 12th pair of works…
I’ve tried it both ways. I quite like playing it without an intermission to create one big arc. On the other hand, a break after No. 12 also makes sense, as the F sharp–major Prelude then feels like a real new beginning. And I think it does the listener good to air one’s head a bit and then start afresh. With The Well-tempered Clavier, it’s less problematic than with works that are truly cyclical, like the “Goldberg” Variations. Here, we are dealing with something that’s more of a collection or anthology.
But you still try to make a dramaturgy audible?
Most of all, I see a subdivision into six sets of four. Four pairs of works belong together, and the last fugue in each of these groups is especially elaborate and demanding, very expressive, also longer, almost monumental in some cases. It’s a bit different in the relatively short G-minor Fugue, but it derives its musical heft from the elaboration of the motto “Soli Deo Gloria” with the notes of E flat–D–G [with E flat spelled Es in German notation].
Does the B-minor pair of works at the end of the anthology form a true finale?
Yes, absolutely. It stands out in so many ways, not only in terms of duration—it’s the longest pair of works. The Prelude is the only one in two parts, with both parts repeated, pointing ahead to Book II of The Well-tempered Clavier. And the theme of the fugue is so incredibly modern, so groundbreaking in its dodecaphony. At the same time, you get the impression that the basic concept of The Well-tempered Clavier is taken to extremes here: we’re presented with a theme consisting of 12 different tones and so get to experience the most concentrated form of passing through all 12 keys. Incidentally, I find it difficult to play an encore afterwards, for everything has truly been said after this fugue.
Bach didn’t include much in his manuscript, apart from the notes. What are the most important decisions you have to make as a performer?
First and foremost, of course, the dynamics. They must correspond to the character, but also help make the structure of the piece comprehensible. You also have to develop your own ideas of tempo—and those ideas change over time, with the more music I get to know, and especially the more of Bach’s music I get to know. In general, I think it’s important to hold the tempo back a little bit in the fast movements, so that there isn’t a feeling of purely mechanical playing. The little notes need space to unfold. And the slow elements mustn’t fall apart. I do think there is something like an ideal tempo for every piece—but within a certain margin of tolerance. Sometimes there are explicit tempo changes, for example in the E-minor Prelude. In these cases, I want to create a clear sense of proportion. Phrasing is another element you have to make your own decisions about. Tracing the trajectory of a line actually tells me a lot. But I also consult contemporary manuals on phrasing. The most important thing is that you must be able to maintain the manner of phrasing you have chosen, for example for the theme of a fugue, in all aspects: there can be no compromises in any demands it might make on your fingers. Musicality is the decisive element, not your own comfort.
What about the pedal?
Use of the right pedal is not forbidden—but it must never be used out of habit, or as a compromise. I occasionally use it to create connections that would otherwise be impossible, in order to boost a sound after a key has been struck, or mainly to achieve a certain phrasing, for example to round out a final sonority. The left pedal I actually never use at all because it creates a sound that is too muted and “coreless” for this style. I’d rather use the sostenuto pedal; for example, there is one moment at the end of the A-minor Fugue where you can make a pedal point resound that wouldn’t be possible on a piano otherwise. Of course, Bach had an organ in mind here.
At the time, the term “clavier” covered all kinds of keyboard instruments.
Exactly, which brings us back to the idea of the collection or anthology. I can recognize many different concepts of sound here, and they also give me ideas for the piano sound. This isn’t just about the harpsichord, organ, or clavichord, but also about all kinds of different instruments, as in the A flat–major Prelude. That’s really a Concerto grosso.
Your new recording of Book I of The Well-tempered Clavier has just been released. What’s the difference for you between studio sessions and performing in concert?
The concert is something quite different—it’s about contact with the audience. Even if I’m the one to produce the music actively, I have the feeling that I receive something from the listeners in return. At this moment, the music is created in a way that doesn’t exist otherwise. For the recording, I mostly did complete takes and tried to carve up the pieces as little as possible, but of course I didn’t perform the whole work in one big arc, as I do in concert. Instead, I recorded one pair at a time, prelude and fugue.
Does the pianist in you have a favorite among the 48 pieces? And does the musician?
No, I couldn’t say that. That would be like having to decide between loving my father or my mother. I also don’t think there would be a difference for me as a pianist and as a musician since I always try to keep the music in mind first and foremost.
How do you see yourself as a performer, especially of Bach’s music?
I wrote some notes for my CD booklet, which I’d like to quote once again: Bach’s music, in my view, allows no room for eccentricity, which always tends to follow current fashion; instead, the music of Bach is timeless and universal. What I love in a good Bach performance is clarity, authenticity, and sincerity, coupled with an evident respect for the work itself. Artists have often attempted to put a personal stamp on Bach’s music, but such approaches miss its essence. What is more, they are entirely pointless, since individuality inevitably becomes noticeable— perhaps even more palpable—if we consciously avoid drawing attention to it.
You taught for several years at the Hanover Musikhochschule, where you studied yourself, and later completed another degree at the Barenboim-Said Akademie as a student of András Schiff, whose teaching assistant you’ve been since 2020. What makes this institution special to you?
Apart from the high musical standard, it’s certainly the background in the humanities that is part of each student’s curriculum here. And it’s a humanistic aspect: because most of the students work together and live together, they get to know each other as people, not only as Israelis or Palestinians, for example. That enriches the experience of music. It’s not only about practicing, important as that may be. I believe if you’re on a path to truly becoming a musician, the goal should not be to practice as much as possible. Rather, the goal is to do as much as necessary and as little as possible, so that you can develop in many different directions.
Interview: Martin Wilkening
Translations: Alexa Nieschlag
The interview originally published in the Pierre Boulez Saal program book for the performance The Well-tempered Clavier on October 19, 2022.
Piano
Schaghajegh Nosrati
Schaghajegh Nosrati appears courtesy of Avi-service for music
© 2021 Schaghajegh Nosrati / Avi-Service for music
℗ 2022 Avi-service for music