Wigmore Hall Live documents Colin Carr’s complete Bach cello suites on two
consecutive performances in May 2012. Though he is among England’s pre-eminent
performers whose reputation is haloed by a stellar pedigree, his pronouncements
of this music are, more than intellectually chewy, too often gummy. His Bach is
well-seasoned, with a career's worth of traversals in the cultural capitals of
the world, but his anxiety producing entrapments made a second hearing more than enough.
Though he is esteemed for his
probity, I take umbrage at his preachy scholasticisms, despite their formal
clarity. His attitude of a well-worn lecturer makes me question where the
line is drawn between an informed interpretation and a displeasing one. This
introduces many dichotomies: the rhythmic distortions used to clarify harmonic
contrapuntal structures; conspicuous mannerisms favored by cellists, among them
blaring open strings and tones denuded by non-vibrato (or strangled by it) and
the self involved music making at the expense of a small dedicated public.
We should be accorded the privilege
of listening to the cellist’s private communion with the divine. Instead, we
hear a smugly satisfied interpretation delivered with hapless tone, elucidating
cosmic appropriations of effortfully stylized dance forms and ideas made
manifest by the aforementioned techniques.
What to make of repetitions that coerce
the flow of time into boxes? Ultimately these dialectics showcase Mr. Carr’s carefully
considered efforts less favorably than the candelabras and costumes of
Liberace’s spectacles.
There are deeply
satisfying movements that reward Mr. Carr’s admirable ambitions when he is
secure enough not to pontificate. Generally, the lively though winded gigues
and penultimate dances provide a welcome relief from the pot-bellied sniveling slowly
paced movements. The odiferous foghorn tones of the C minor sarabande made me
turn away, but the rhapsodic prelude of the D minor suite could have been the
rapture of an instructor’s daydream in a classroom full of dozing students.
One unequivocally praiseworthy
facet of this album is the magnificent acoustic of Wigmore Hall, which so
warmly cocoons the reedy thin sounds unhappily commanded from Mr. Carr’s fine
Gofriller cello. To finance his valuable instrument he is dedicated to his
students in important positions in prestigious institutions on two continents, as
his less than endearing program notes proclaim.
The necessity to codify aesthetic
views when assuming the responsibilities of teaching music often degrades to
interpretive photocopying and can stultify the growth of the artist. Stuttering
and stillborn, Mr. Carr’s arid style suits well in some few dances, so I’ll
take Bach to task for not composing more pieces suitable to this cellist’s
temperament.
I cannot recommend these CDs. Shit served fresh on fine
china still steams. No, this is an artist I hope not to hear again anytime
soon.
~CrackCritic
Warning: may induce Carr sickness
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