Because
there he is, the preeminent cellist of our day, Yo-Yo
Ma, playing baroque
cello, and playing it damn well.
It may not
look like it to you—but there are real differences in the equipment and the
technique. First, the strings are gut—not the metal strings that the modern
cello has. And that accounts for the softer sound.
Second of
all, the endpin—the metal rod that goes from the bottom of the instrument to
the floor—is not there. And that means that the instrument has to be cradled in
between the legs, a feeling which I, at least, enjoy.
The bow is
radically different: here’s one writer on the subject:
Italian music was light and airy, requiring agility and
rapidity. German music was more introspective; tempi were slower, and the music
frequently required individual string players to produce true chords.
These
two musical styles were reflected in the violin bows. The Italian bow was slim
and light, the bow strings fixed in relatively high tension, while the German
bow was highly arched, and the string tension was fairly loose. In contrast to
the Italian technique of holding the bow lightly from above with curved wrist,
the German bow was held with the thumb placed under the bow strings. In this
way the player could tighten or relax the bowstring tension at will. A tighter
tension in the bow was used for single string, single melodic line playing,
while a relaxing of the bowstrings' tension permitted playing on two or more
strings simultaneously, and thus of course, the playing of true chords.
The
instrument is also held differently—more vertically, with the pegs near the
left ear, not behind it.
But one of
the most important elements of baroque playing is that the pitch is different.
To start with, the A—the note that the oboe plays at the beginning of a concert
to tune the orchestra—is not the 440 Hz, but varied from 392 to 465 Hz. But
generally, the A was much lower—which contributed as well to a softer, darker
sound. And so the standard among baroque players has settled at 415 Hz.
There are
stylistic differences, as well. The tendency of the baroque era was to ornament
heavily—whatever got written on the page was meant as a guideline, not a Bible.
So a performer was free to ornament, and did so.
When I
first moved to Puerto Rico, I played in a baroque group, and the experience was
a revelation. It was hard, initially, to limit the vibrato, and to create the
long, expressive notes that start softly, grow slowly, and then recede again.
Most difficult was tuning—the high leading tones and major thirds of modern
playing vanish when playing baroque.
But there’s
something tantalizing about it—it is the simplest, easiest playing in the
world.
“I never
want to work so hard again,” I said to the violinist of the group. She knew
exactly what I meant: a large, major Romantic work like the Dvorak Concerto is less a piece of music than a battle.
To play baroque music is…well, to play.
The last question,
of course, is whether Ma gets away with it. Has he really mastered the baroque
cello? I drifted over to Amazon.com to check on what the audience was saying.
Predictably,
Ma has his critics. But me? I’m convinced!
