The last Sonata, BWV 1019 in G major, exists in at least three versions;
there is a basic design of the movements that has traditionally been played
as the G major, but most sets include alternative movements as well.
First, I will review the "basic" five movements and provide my overall
conclusions about the performances of the six sonatas.  Then, I'll cover
the alternative movements of the G major and the other works on many of the
recordings.

The first movement Allegro is vivacious and exciting music which has
existed in each of the various versions.  It's rare that one performance
would make all the others seem superfluous, but that's the position I'm in.
Kuijken and Leonhardt simply blow away the competition for a number of
reasons.  First, Leonhardt is fabulous and the only one whose harpsichord
is truely a distinct partner to the violin.  Second, Kiujken's phrasing and
accenting are superb, greatly adding to the exitement of the listening
experience.  Third, their partnership represents a perfect unison of
stature.  Fourth, their flow is irresitably smooth at its foundation.
Every other version has its virtues, but comparison to the Kuijken reading
is not complimentary.  I should note that Wallfisch and Goebel race through
the Allegro; the greater speed does add excitement to Geobel's performance,
but it does nothing for Wallfisch as she and Nicholson are rather
helter-skelter.

The second movement is a very short Largo in E minor under two minutes.
The music is thoroughly melancholy, and all I ask is that I feel that
melancholy and inner pain when listening to a performance.  Blumenstock
doesn't do it for me because she very surprisingly projects weakly, leaving
poor John Butt "holding the bag".  Terakado does something he has had a
penchant for in these sonatas - a highly civilized and well manicured
reading that diminishes the conveyance of depth of feeling.  van Dael,
Manze, and Huggett could project more strongly.  Mackintosh is not very
expressive, Holloway and Moroney are rather choppy, and Biondi's violin
tone is too romantic for my tastes.

Other less than excellent readings come from Wallfisch and Schroder.
Wallfisch continues her speedy ways from the first movement with a
diminished depth of emotions.  Schroder does fine, but the harpsichord
tends to drown him out.

Four versions strongly convey to me the inner hurt and resignation of the
Largo: Goebel, Kuijken, Ronez, and Podger.  Each projects clearly and
expressively, and each receives outstanding partnership from the
harpsichord.  Their performances enter the soul.

The third movement is the famous cembalo solo (it's famous to me).  If
you've never heard this solo, you might be missing out on the most happy
and joyous classical music ever written.  It's certainly one of Bach's
most magical creations and quite a contrast with the ever so sad Largo.

I'm not sure how I got into the situation, but I've been listening to
Alessandrini's cembalo solo for a few weeks now in my car - dozens of
times.  It's been a great mood enhancer.  There's a delightful innocence
and lightness; at the same time, Alessandrini applies just the right degree
of weight to insure no whimsical properties.  I look forward to comparing
it to the other versions.

Schroder's partner Ingolfsdottir is a little slow and never takes flight;
the performance sounds slightly stodgy.  The same applies to Terakado's
partner Henstra.  Pinnock and Cole provide much more exuberance than
Ingolfsdottir or Henstra with very fine readings.  My only reservation is
that I would have liked performances with additional edge to them.  John
Butt has the right spirit but is somewhat bass shy; the result is reduced
exuberance.  Egarr must be learning low projection from Manze, because a
strong volume boost is sorely needed.  Another problem is that Egarr uses
a strumming effect with his left hand that I find distracting.  Leonhardt
is a little slow and deliberate; joy is in the air but excitement is low.

Before I get to the great performances, I need to tell you about a
performance I can't listen to.  This concerns the set from Goebel/Hill;
they use an early version of BWV 1019 - 1019a.  The cembalo simply isn't in
this early version, but the repetition of the first movement masquerading
as the fifth movement is included.  Goebel/Hill even includes four
additional works - BWV 1021, 1022, 1023, and 1024.  But still no cembalo
solo.  All this might well be justified in a historical fashion.  But I
don't care about that!!  All I know is that my favorite movement from the
entire set is absent.  How am I going to get my gratification?  As far as
I'm concerned, those two men made a musically stupid decision - you don't
throw out gold and insert copper just to provide some neat little
historical accuracy.  This is a major blot on the Goebel/Hill set, and it
tells me something else.  Nobody who loves the cembalo solo as I do would
disregard it when recording the set.  I'm particularly disappointed in
Goebel and Archiv.  Well, I'm through with my little tirade and it's on
to some wonderful performances.

Those wonderful performances come from Kubitschek, Moroney, Koopman,
Alessandrini, van Asperen, and Nicholson.  I know I've said little positive
about Nicholson up to this point, but he absolutely shines in the cembalo
solo.  Kubitschek and Koopman shine also, but it's the other three who best
supply the bubbly bounce, joy, and excitement built on perpetual motion.
Alessandrini, van Asperen, and Moroney score big points on this one.

Before moving forward to the fourth movement, a few more words about the
Goebel G major Sonata are in order.  I had mentioned that Goebel uses an
earlier version of the Sonata than in the other sets.  The impact happens
with the third, fourth, and fifth movements; the first two movements were
already in the earlier versions.  In essence, Goebel's third and fourth
movements are "alternative" movements and added as an appendix to many
other sets.  So, I'll cover Goebel's third and fourth movements when I hit
the alternative movements from the other sets.  Goebel's fifth movement, a
repeat of the first movement, won't be mentioned again.  If you're confused
at this point, you have company with me.

The fourth movement is an Adagio in B minor which takes us back to the
melancholy and sadness of the second movement.  Terakado and his partner
are not particularly sad, once again providing performances which are
polite and surface-bound.  Huggett and Koopman sound rushed at times, and
Huggett is rather reticent.  Worthy versions are given by Manze, Wallfisch,
Schroder, Mackintosh, and Blumenstock.  The excellent performances are from
van Dael, Ronez, Biondi, Kuijken, and Holloway.  The slowest and most
rewarding issue is Podger's thoroughly melancholy and heart-felt reading.

The G major Sonata is the only one with a fifth movement, and it's an
Allegro in the style of a gigue.  The music is exciting, happy, and highly
lyrical.  All of the versions are enjoyable with Huggett and Manze leading
the pack with dynamic performances; Manze's projection here is much better
than in many other movements.

Conclusions for the Six Sonatas for Violin & Harpsichord:

I don't recall any sterling reviews in the periodicals for the set from
Elizabeth Blumenstock and John Butt, but I consider this the best of the
fourteen versions.  The stage belongs to Blumenstock who combines a lovely
and incisive violin tone with readings which are always idiomatic and
strike to the core.  My only reservation concerns the cembalo solo where
Mr. Butt is less exhuberant than most of the other artists.

Second in my affection is the van Dael/van Asperen set.  van Dael is
excellent and expertly partnered by van Asperen whose cembalo solo caps off
an exceptional set of performances.  I also highly recommend the sets from
Ronez, Kuijken, Podger, and Huggett.  Concerning Ronez, her violin tone
will not be pleasant to many listeners and is more geared toward the
hard-core period instrument fan.

The next group consists of Biondi, Schroder, Mackintosh, and Holloway;
each represents a worthy acquisition.  I had some problems with Biondi's
relatively romantic violin tone, so those not sharing my personal issue
here might well find the set excellent for in all other respects it is
great music-making.  Schroder and Mackintosh are very safe recommendations.
Holloway's violin tone could be an acquired taste, although he is not in
Ronez's league in this respect.

I can only give qualified recommendations on the sets from Wallfisch,
Goebel, and Terakado.  Wallfisch is often too fast and Nicholson's
contributions not exemplary.  However, Wallfisch does project very well,
and Nicholson is excellent in the cembalo solo.  My problem with Goebel's
set is the omission of the cembalo solo.  Terakado presents well-packaged
and manicured performances more suitable for background listening than
total concentration.

Just based on personal opinion, I'd have to recommend taking a pass on the
Manze set.  The lack of sufficient projection from Manze and the use of the
gamba in the first two Sonatas ruins this set for me.  However, I know how
to read, and I've read nothing but excellent reviews.  Evidently, what I
hear as nothing more than under-projection is considered by most listeners
as wonderful nuances, mystery, and expressiveness.  Also, most appear to
love the gamba's contributions.  As for me, I'll be handing the Manze off
to my daughter.  She borrowed a few sets from me many months ago and
declared Manze the most enjoyable.

There is a lot of additional music left to cover on most of the sets; I'll
get to that in Part 7.  The sets without any additional music come from
Biondi, Kuijken, Schroder, and Ronez.  I don't hold that against them, but
I can't deny that it makes the timings rather skimpy.  In some cases I may
be revising upward my opinion of some other sets if I find their added
performances to be exceptional.

Don Satz
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