After last week's extended thoughts on Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, I have decided this week to write about a musical device which of itself is not that interesting, but how some great composers utilise it has, on occasions been impressive and inspiring.  I am going to describe some examples.

The device is called the Ground Bass, and its close relatives are the Chaconne (or Chacony as Purcell referred to it), and the Passacaglia.  The simple device is to write a few bars, or notes, and then repeat them building a movement or aria based on them.  I was taught at some point that the Chaconne and Passacaglia were different names for the same thing, where the Ground Bass differed by retaining the melodic repeated bars for the bass instruments alone. This may be so, but I suspect somewhere out there that there may be a composition called a ground bass where the ‘bass’ ground is sometimes played in a higher instrument. It’s not worth spending time over the definition because the music and how it sounds is the interesting part.  I have selected 4 compositions, not in chronological order, but in the order I subjectively rate them (not a good system but I am not writing a history of music).  These, then, are in reverse order:

4. Brahms Symphony No.4 Op.98 last movement. 
It’s only No. 4 on my list because the next three are just a bit higher, and though I will burn in eternal fire for saying it, I have always found it rather stodgy despite its magnificent accomplishments.  Building an entire symphonic movement out of 8 notes is certainly impressive, and Bernstein described it as full of fury.  The theme is played at the beginning, and repeats almost entirely in 8-bar sections comprising 30 variations of each and coda ‘finishing-off’ section at the end.  The theme is always there but it is easy to lose it as you listen, and at times is implied more in the harmony, rather than as a distinctive melody.  As a symphonist would, Brahms created unity and proportion by arranging the variations in groups, rather than having each one standing in its own dramatic world.  A single group of, say, 3 variations (= 24 bars) might be quiet, etc.   The 12th – 15th variations double the bar length from 3/4 to 3/2 for 4 variations so that the 8-bar theme proceeds at half-speed, beginning with a solo flute and proceeding quietly through them as a group, changing to E major at Variation 13.  The peace is then shattered after a pause and variation 16 begins with strong chords in the woodwind and brass, with the upper strings piling in dramatically at the end of the 4th bar….perhaps the most dramatic moment of the entire movement. 

The 19th century was one in which composers tried to break free from Classical restraint (Berlioz, Liszt, Wagner etc), and Brahms was very conservatively trying to maintain those Classical traditions within his own lush musical world.  Though I have some reservations, the symphony is powerful and dramatic, and the finale is certainly ingenious.  Brahms even dares to show us his ankles by introducing a triangle in the third movement, and the third is the only one of the four which seems to take flight. 

Barenboim with Chicago starting 30’27”  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgBlCBDOSiU   
Bernstein with Vienna..more fury and an explanation from LB at the beginning of the clip!
45’20”   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM2ndQGbUBQ

Spotify:  Carlos Kleiber with Vienna
https://open.spotify.com/track/2UrILPsnAc5Jh4VLGyFoKx?si=Auwx42V2SfyzPK7aBNcqcQ

I think my next three are all tied first, but for my third choice:

3. Purcell: Dido’s lament from the opera ‘Dido and Aeneas’.  Thank heaven for Dido!  Aeneas is such a wimp who needs to get a grip and never quite does.  There are two earlier Chaconnes in the opera, and Purcell has a scheme to avoid them being too obvious. The music surrounding the repeating bass ‘ground’ hides it using differing phrase lengths. Dido’s 11-note theme over 5 bars falls in semitones for the first six notes, and then is repeated strictly throughout in the bass part always.  Five bars is extremely unusual as a structural anchor, even in later centuries, and its unsettling nature intensifies the progression of Dido singing her dying song.  ‘May my bones create no trouble’ ignores and overlaps the 5-bar bass, only fitting it harmonically.   With phrases which vary in length and only twelve statements of the Ground Bass (a repeat of the first three, then a repeat of the last two which are sung, and then a final two with the accompanying strings only) of course we are looking at a short aria rather than a symphonic structure.  Purcell skilfully camouflages the repeating Ground. One can then admire the agonized chromaticism supporting the tragedy of Dido’s destiny, the text ‘but ah, forget my fate’ set to the lamenting melodic phrases, and the desolate stillness of the twice repeated ‘remember me’.  It is fascinating to step back and look at the structure, but Purcell the musician is much more than a technician here, and one of the greatest tragic arias is the result.  There are many recordings on YouTube, and I found this finely-turned performance amongst them all:

Anna Dennis:  YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-H--Z9UzQYE

Spotify:Les Arts Florissants
https://open.spotify.com/track/34kbSUE9nBOYUPHefQIkgf?si=ybBB7sGRR7yyhxwPj16CuQ

Looking way beyond the musical structure and just standing in awe, brings me to my 2nd choice. 

2. J.S. Bach Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor, BVW 582
What a giant of a piece!  Bach was the master of all time when it comes to contrapuntal complexity and ingenious invention.  Like Lionel Messi, he sees things and creates spaces which no one else quite manages.  Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms . . . most great composers who followed, studied and knew the music of Bach and his technique influenced them all.  A study of the Art of Fugue reveals astonishing complexity, several actions happening simultaneously, fitting together melodies in various altered guises like a magician.

This 8-bar Passacaglia theme is introduced in the pedals and there follow 20 repeats in various guises, though remaining in C minor and all 8 bars in length.  As with the Brahms symphony, they are arranged in groups so that the music connects and flows, with some passages where the manuals only play with the passacaglia theme at the top.  I’m not tempted to get more deeply involved other than to marvel at the variety and intricacy deriving from such a simple source. 

The Fugue follows without a break but the theme is treated more freely, and it passes through different keys.  It is a ‘double fugue’, the first half of the Passacaglia theme (now the fugue ‘subject') joined from the beginning at the same time as the second theme, based loosely on the 2nd part of the Passacaglia melody.  A third line then appears – ‘a counter-subject’ and then a fourth, and throughout the fugue the parts appear in turn above and below each other, but never the same.  There are short episodes (‘codettas’) between the main fugue subject (melody) where the music runs freely but one can detect the main Passacaglia theme returning after a few bars, either at the bottom in the pedal, or in one of the upper parts and moving through related keys.  After a thorough working of all the various permutations combining the melodic linear movement of each of the four independent lines, the music reaches a pause, which happens to be on a Neapolitan 6th (see the end of my Blog No.2 for more about that!).  A final 8 bars, based on the worked-out melodic ideas then brings the music gloriously to an end.

Perhaps this fugue with its preceding Passacaglia is more remarkable than some of Bach’s others on account of its great length. Bach never wrote a bad or a dull fugue, and seems to have had this ability effortlessly at his disposal.  An extraordinary underlying power carries us through this work, the Passacaglia theme at the start laying down the foundation stone of a great monument.

Two YouTube recordings here with the music to follow on your screen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ie52xH8V2L4
Andreaskirche Hildesheim Andrea Marcon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTcHEwFFWdk

I have adjudicated competitions from time to time, and it is often difficult to come up with a winner which stands out above all others.  That is the case here, but, as with competitions, I have to go for a result. If you disagree, then I agree with you!

For my No.1 hit, and it is Bach again (the master), the winner is:

1. Chaconne from Partita No. 2 in D minor for solo violin, BWV 1004

This work, as many of you will know, is even more astonishing.  It is the 5th and final movement of his 2nd Partita for solo violin ‘without bass accompaniment’, as Bach wrote.  A ‘Partita’ was the name given to a group of movements played by a solo instrument or small group.  The four preceding movements of this Partita were dances, similar to the movements of a Baroque orchestral or solo Suite (copied by later composers such as Grieg in his ‘Holberg’ Suite, and Warlock with his ‘Capriol’ Suite).  Partita/Suite – in general these are in essence just different and interchangeable names for much the same thing, as with Chaconne/Passacaglia.  Academics with encyclopaedic knowledge of old and rare music would extensively qualify that statement, but I mention it as a broad guide.

An earlier solo violin Passacaglia is worth hearing, written by Heinrich Biber who lived 100 years before Bach.  It is built around a 4-note descending minor scale and is a remarkable and inventive work, especially because of its being built on such a meagre beginning.  Here is a very fine YouTube performance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqQRX0ptw3w

Bach’s Chaconne, however, takes matters on to a higher plane, and is built around a 4-bar phrase which is repeated a further 64 times – perhaps the most extensive single movement for solo violin.  As with Brahms later and Bach’s C minor organ Passacaglia, the variations are grouped to give the effect of longer sections.  They develop and link within those groups, though never losing the 4-bar structure.  Just beyond the half-way point (at the 34th variation of the 4-bar theme) the music changes to D major introducing a moment of touching stillness.

I will make the point here, as with all the Passacaglias/Chaconnes that I have referred to, that in the hands of these great composers they reach far beyond technical brilliance into worlds of great aesthetic beauty and substance.  The undiscerning listener need not know that the building blocks are so concise or rigid, and can appreciate the whole works in their own individual sound worlds.

There are 19 variations in D major, reaching an astonishing range of power and complexity.  D minor returns then (though slightly hidden for a moment), and the final 12, still virtuosic variations bring us home to finish with the opening four bars of the movement.

Unlike the organ Passacaglia, the melody is not often actually heard, but it is ‘there’.  The lack of a bass instrument often leaves the bass part to one’s imagination, though again, in a real sense it is ‘there’.  Bach supplies a good deal of ‘bass’ through the chordal writing, crossing strings either as spread chords, or as double-stopping (notes played simultaneously on two strings).  This was a well-established custom dating back over time, and continued in the future, as in the opening of Elgar’s Cello Concerto.  Where this harmony is not actually played, it nevertheless exists.

There is a performance on YouTube with baroque violin.  The Chaconne begins at 3’50”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5IkdN9ghuE

There are other performances, and if you have Spotify, then you can also hear it played on a lute.  Here is the link.

https://open.spotify.com/track/3ybiPGmukMhHOwiwgC7Q5C?si=VrHPhsGiRVi1PkNFCaqDZw

And finally, but I would urge you not to be tempted before acquainting yourself with the violin original, you can listen to the Busoni piano transcription…it’s the same piece - wonderful, great fun and highly virtuosic (as is the violin original, of course!).  Also, with the full weight and range of a piano rather than violin, Busoni more than fills in the notes that are ‘there’, but not necessarily heard, in Bach’s manuscript.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sw9DlMNnpPM

Brahms knew this Chaconne well, and his friend, the violinist Joachim, played it in concerts.  In a letter dated June 1877 to Schumann’s widow and composer Clara, Brahms wrote:

“On one stave, for a small instrument, the man writes a whole world of the deepest thoughts and most powerful feelings. If I imagined that I could have created, even conceived the piece, I am quite certain that the excess of excitement and earth-shattering experience would have driven me out of my mind.”

I hope, like me, you will marvel at these works, whether or not you know them already. 

We are entering our fourth month without meeting to sing and perform.  This is a testing time, and particularly for those whose professional lives have been halted and who can’t see what the future holds. I hope you are keeping strong and well.

All best wishes,
Richard