★★★★☆ British conductor Paul Goodwin works his Baroque magic on this modern orchestra.

Hamer Hall, Melbourne,
April 30, 2016

Maestro magician Paul Goodwin has one particular trick that is increasingly in demand: he can make a modern orchestra play with all the sonic authenticity and technical trimmings of a bona fide Baroque ensemble. However, this is no mere illusion, as Goodwin displayed after putting the MSO through this re-education process in preparation for a performance of two of Bach’s Orchestral Suites. The alteration to the timbre that Goodwin achieves is rooted in a deeply sensitive understanding of this music’s place within a historical continuum. The result is a performance that doesn’t just sound authentic; it’s musically enlightening too.

A precise history of the Orchestral Suites’ origins isn’t known, but there’s a widely accepted consensus that these four works were written in Leipzig from the 1720s onwards. Like the Brandenburg Concertos, which were completed around a similar period (although most likely constructed from earlier compositions), these works show Bach in full experimental mode. Exploring textures, instrumental combinations and musical gestures that set new precedents, these pieces are remarkable not just artistically, but also in their function as works intended for public performance.

While the Suites No. 2 and 3 share a common title, their similarities end there. No. 2 (which despite its numbering was likely written almost a decade after the third Suite) is a decorative showcase for flute soloist and strings. In spite of its minor tonality, it manages to retain an ethereal and capricious quality, enhanced by the delicate filigree of the soloist’s ornamental melodies. MSO’s principal flute, Prudence Davis offered a bright, nimble account, which was particularly alert in the famous Badinerie that closes this piece, although occasionally an excess of vibrato threw a disturbing eddy of modern sonority into the crystalline sheen of the string accompaniment.

Arguably the most musically accomplished of the Bach’s quartet of Orchestral Suites, the third calls for an usual line-up, adding trumpets, timpani, and two oboes to the strings and harpsichord continuo. Achieving the brittle nuance of period winds via the finely honed technology of modern instruments is a difficult ask, and so Goodwin allowed a little artistic licence with these elements, but summoning a perfect Baroque facsimile is more than tone-deep. Goodwin’s choice of tempo and the craft of his phrasing kept this performance buoyant and mercurial. This was particularly evident in the Air (of “on-a-G-string” fame), which when unburdened of the heavy, overly-romanticised stodge (so commonly smeared over this music in the 1980s and 90s) was revealed as an elegant petit four on the musical palate.

In a clever bit of programming, bookending the two Bach Suites, a pair of Haydn’s most pivotal symphonies showed what the compositional experiments begun by Bach would eventually mature to become. Both these works, Symphony No. 49 La Passione, and Symphony No. 92, Oxford, were offered with a lean and lithe precision that, almost counterintuitively, revealed Haydn’s incredible capacity for drama, even by present day standards. With the same light-of-touch approach, Goodwin was able to extract a far wider spectrum of textural densities and dynamics, stretching the contours of this music into a fantastically vivid succession of peaks and troughs. For anyone who may be questioning the merits of applying fussy period authenticities to modern performances of this music, Goodwin’s delivery of these two Haydn symphonies provided the final word: when restored to its original glory, this music is truly built to last.