Tour: J. S. Bach, Fischer, Bartók

Bach’s last orchestral suite is a perfect opener; the composer called the entire work “Ouverture” with good reason. The first movement invokes the dotted notes and sublime atmosphere of overtures to French operas – with a bit of Italian seasoning. Then, adjusted to the style of the period, come a series of conventional dances; two Bourrées first; the merry and the mysterious dances take turns to form a single movement. A Gavotte follows, expressing, according to a contemporary account, “joy that never loses self-control.” After the almost mandatory Minuets (two of them) the Suite, set for strings, oboes, trumpets, timpani, and continuo, instead of adding another dance movement, culminates in a ceremonial Réjuissance (rejoicing).

A collection of stylized dances — that was the brief description of the suite. In other words, dance numbers that nobody dances to anymore because they have fallen out of fashion. But when the suites were first performed during Bach’s time, the elderly may have still remembered the dances, and may have felt nostalgic. This was Iván Fischer’s thought process when he composed his own suite of dances, whose melodies may sound similarly familiar to the contemporary audience. A Baroque prelude, a samba-like bossa nova, syncopating ragtime, slithering tango, and swing-based boogie-woogie constitute the modern parody of this Bachian form.

“In a manor house, three outlaws force a young girl to seduce men whom they then rob”, begins Béla Bartók’s description of The Miraculous Mandarin. In Menyhért Lengyel’s nightmare tale, the outlaws cannot overcome the wealthy Chinaman who comes after two poor men and besieges the girl with his love. They strangle him, stab him with a sword, hang him, but to no avail. Finally, the girl fulfills the mandarin’s desire, and he drops dead. Bartók’s one-act opera caused such a scandal at its premiere in Cologne in 1926 that the mayor banned further performances because of the openly depicted orgasm. Aside from the theme, the music is also progressive. Bartók breaks with classical tonality and uses dissonance as a means of expression. He puts the percussionists in the foreground, writes an unorthodox part for the wind instruments, and portrays the story with a wild, rhythmic, pulsating sound – at least musically.