Zuill Bailey's path of discovery regarding Bach mirrors what has happened in the last 150 years in the cello world. He played Bach as a child, but the Suites weren't much more than assignments to slog through. No, they weren't just exercises to him, but he had not yet acquired the wisdom to comprehend how daunting they actually are from a musical perspective. It wasn't until after he had finished graduate school that he came to understand their greatness and their limitless possibilities. Only then did he feel the weight of his task and responsibility as an artist to slow down and study them more carefully.

He also wrestled with whether to play in a more 20th century romantic approach or something more along the lines of baroque performance practice. Bailey, along with the rest of the cello world, was inspired by Anner Bylsma's earth-shaking Bach Suite recordings, which woke up the cello world to a "new" way of playing Bach. Bailey was also struck and inspired by Christophe Coin's 2001 performance of the Sixth Suite at the RNCM Manchester Cello Festival on a 5-string cello, which helped him see that the Sixth Suite is more than just a symphonic tour de force, as Rostropovich viewed it, but as a singing symphony. Bailey's recording represents his attempt to merge the two worlds.

It was these thoughts that swirled in Zuill Bailey's head as he and I shared a cab from mid-town New York to Harlem in early December 2008. Along the way he pointed out sites of musical significance, such as Juilliard's original facility, where Leonard Rose taught for many years, now the Manhattan School of Music. After a discussion about various controversial notes in the Bach Suites, we were dropped off across the street from the Academy of Arts and Letters, where Bailey would be spending the next seven days recording what amounts to the cello world's Holy Scripture.

We stopped and stared silently at the massive facility for a moment. Then Bailey said, quietly, "I can't believe I'm about the record the Bach Suites." What an honor, what an opportunity. And here we were, where Anner Bylsma recorded the Bach Suites in 1993.

The way to the hall within the Academy is a metaphor for what one must do when undertaking such a task, which is to go deeper and deeper. Starting at the main street level, one walks down a long hill to an inconspicuous side door, then down a long, steep, dimly lit ramp to the basement. After several turns one ends up in a 730-seat concert hall that has in essence been mothballed due to fire code issues. It is mainly used for recording sessions now, not live concerts.

Bailey's original plan was to record the Suites in order, from 1 to 6, since he wanted to experience their musical and instrumental evolution. The first three Suites are very cellistic and have a certain simplicity of musical line. The Fourth Suite starts to break out of this mold and seems as if it were written for a keyboard instrument; just look at the many leaps in its Prelude. The Fifth Suite adds scordatura tuning (though he doesn't use it), and transcends the traditional definitions of the dance forms indicated. And the Sixth Suite adds a fifth string and is composed and conceived on a much grander musical scale.

Bailey pulled out his 1693 Gofriller and warmed up with various movements, including a lightning fast and yet clean d minor Courante. It quickly became clear why this hall is used for so many recordings; the acoustic was truly magical. It was as if the hall became the cello itself and I was actually inside the instrument as I listened in full rapture. The hall instantly resonated with a warm, velvety, full sound, as if it were a musical womb. This must be what heaven sounds like.

Adam Abeshouse, who has recorded most of Bailey's CDs, had already set up the microphones on stage when we arrived. He had also brought in his own lights to illuminate the stage, which are specially designed to not buzz or hum, a recording engineer's nightmare. With the Wenzinger and Bärenreiter reference editions on the floor next to his chair in case he needed to consult them, Bailey began with the G Major Prelude from memory, which is the movement he started with each day to center himself. He played the slurs as printed in the Wenzinger edition, three slurred notes then the next five separate, and it sounded so convincing and so clean that it was hard to understand in the moment why so many cellists add slurs across half-bars, as was done in Hugo Becker's edition a century ago. The cliché of this movement depicting a stream ("Bach is a brook.") does not mesh with this original bowing.

It occurred to me as I listened to repeated takes of this prelude how perfectly lovely it is. It's tragic that some find its innocence and simplicity tiresome after awhile, and that it is often assigned to children in Bach Suite marathons. It's incredibly difficult to play this movement at a high level, and in Bailey's hands, it was refreshing and inspiring. I felt like the luckiest person in the world to be present as he played it over and over again, striving for a sound that bloomed, and for an awareness of the harmonies that didn't result in pedantic playing.

Amazingly, Bailey played all the Suites from memory. The only times he opened the score were when I questioned certain notes. He would then review the various manuscripts so he could recall why he chose one note instead of another.

The process for this recording evolved into something much different from his other recordings, since there was actually time and space to discuss things. Bailey, being highly extroverted, loves to talk things out, and I was honored to be his sounding board. He was very open to other ideas, since he was fully aware that his own ideas are ever-changing. He'd play for awhile and then he'd invite my feedback, which ranged from note and rhythm verification to musical suggestions. For example, we discussed placing a slight nudge on the first beat of every measure in the opening of the G Major Prelude, which is something Tortelier did so beautifully. If I felt strongly about something and he wasn't convinced, the compromise would be for him to do one take my way so that he had the option to use it later. Much to his chagrin, he found himself watching my pencil as he played, since he knew I had something to say when he saw me writing. The remarkable thing was that he knew the pieces so well that he could change how he played instantaneously, making decisions as he played.

After a few run-throughs of the First Suite he moved on to the Fourth Suite, saying he was starting to over-think as he played. When asked why he chose the Fourth Suite instead of the Second, he said that he needed to go to a Suite that was significantly different, so he chose one from the last three Suites instead of from the first three. He was losing his spontaneity, so a change of musical scenery was necessary. He said, "I like playing as if I'm performing. Then I feel as if I'm playing like me."

The Fourth Suite Prelude was a revelation, and was done with a perfectly executed sautillé bow stroke that was particularly mesmerizing in the hall. It was refreshing to hear this movement played at a tempo that was fast enough to allow one to easily sense the musical structure and harmonic motion of this piece. Unlike others who play at this faster tempo, he was in perfect technical control and didn't sound at all frantic. It is worth buying his CD for this movement alone. I couldn't help but wonder if his huge hands were very helpful in this Suite and asked if I could trace his left hand.

It was in this movement that he and I had one of our more extended discussions. In his initial run-through, for example, he played at a distinctly slower tempo in measure 62, immediately after the second cadenza-like passage. Having done this myself for many years, I had the sudden thought that I may have been distorting the flow of the movement all these years, even though the passage seems to call for a certain sensitivity. I suggested he try resisting the temptation to slow down and instead go back to the original tempo. It is gratifying that the final edit of his CD includes a version that is more or less a tempo.

The first day of recording ended at 6pm. He had to stop because his fingers were literally turning purple from fatigue. Playing Bach all day, including the Fourth Suite, is a feat in itself! Fortunately, there was no sense of concern about quitting relatively early after seven hours of playing, since he had another six days to go and he had some great takes.

We continued the discussion about Bach at dinner. He mentioned his general concept of each movement. The preludes are what establish the key of each Suite. The allemandes need to sing and yet be grounded. The courantes should seem as if they are caffeinated and played with eyebrows up. The sarabandes are luscious. The minuets and gavottes are elegant and regal. The gigues are like dances in an Irish pub, elbows up and bubbly. Of course, there are exceptions, especially in the Fifth Suite, but these were his guiding principles.

The next day began with a minor panic about the temperature in the hall. The Academy's maintenance staff thought they would do Bailey a favor and turn up the heat during the night so that he didn't walk into a cold space in the morning. Unfortunately, it resulted in a sauna-like temperature, which would have caused all sorts of instability in his cello. We had the heat turned off and waited and waited for the heat to dissipate.

Bailey began the day with the First Suite. A friendly argument erupted between me, Bailey, and Abeshouse about whether one should suddenly change to a quiet dynamic in measure 5 of the Gigue. I was advocating against a sudden dynamic change. I did not succeed in convincing them of my point of view so I registered an official protest, which was cheerfully noted.

After most of the day on the First and Fourth Suites, he decided to do a run-through of the musically treacherous Fifth Suite, since he wanted me to hear it before I returned to Seattle the next day. He unleashed an emotionalism and an explosive wall of sound that had not surfaced in the First and Fourth Suites and for once I was speechless. It was as if a different person were playing. It turned out to be extremely difficult to switch mindsets seamlessly between the elegant simplicity of the First Suite and the deep, dark, groans of the Fifth. Subsequent run-throughs were much toned down, however. Rather than obsess all night, however, we decided to quit for the day.

We talked and talked about the Bach Suites, first over dinner, then at another restaurant over dessert, then in the blustery face-freezing New York winter back to the hotel. With scores in hand we discussed in detail Suites 2, 3, 5, and 6. Is the opening of the Fifth Suite a French Overture, for example? Should it have a bit of a lilt or should the rhythms be more crisp? What is the feel of the Sixth Suite Allemande? Should it sing or is it more brisk and ethereal? His CD provides his answers to these questions.

Bailey recorded the Second and Third Suites next, since he felt the most settled with these works from a musical standpoint and he still wanted to record the Suites more or less in order. The last few days were spent on the monumental Fifth and Sixth Suites. He wanted to give himself a few days to think about the Fifth Suite and to study various sources to help him decide how to play, so saving it for the last few days worked out well. He also ended up being grateful that he saved the Sixth Suite for the end of the week, since his fatigue helped him focus on the singing nature of the music instead of its virtuosity. He wanted the Sixth Suite to seem as effortless and as lyrical on his 4-string cello as Christophe Coin sounded on the 5-string cello.

The recording has finally been released after a year-long wait, and I could not be more excited about the final product. While the entire recording is beautiful, certain movements stand out. The d minor Courante is eye-poppingly virtuosic, as are the E-flat and D Major Courantes. Bailey uses the original slurs in the pedal section in the second half of the C Major Prelude and the g pedal note resonates like I've never heard in other recordings; he has raised the bar for us all in this movement. The E-flat Prelude is one of the best versions in the vast sea of recordings. And much to my delight, he struck a nice balance between the baroque and modern approaches in the Fifth Suite; his dark, deep, thunderous cello sound in this Suite is unparalleled.

It was a privilege to be part of the recording process, since the release of new Bach recordings has slowed down significantly in the industry. This recording represents Zuill Bailey's perspective on our "cellistic musical bible," as he calls the Suites, at least how he felt about them a year ago. He has since mentioned several times that the process has changed him, and he now understands why Fournier wanted to re-record the Bach Suites immediately after his first attempt. One exciting recent development is that Kalmus will soon release a new Bach Edition, editing by Bailey, which will match his recording. This recording will always be within easy reach on my shelf and I am proud to have played even a bit part in the supporting cast during its creation.

2/5/10

http://www.zuillbailey.com