EIF: Dunedin Consort plays Bach

Queen’s Hall - 12/08/23

Dunedin have a formidable reputation in this field. Only the other day I heard them on Radio 3 taking the Albert Hall by storm with Mozart’s ‘Mass in C’. Here they’re offering Bach’s four ‘Orchestral Suites’. Arriving early, I get chatting to a lady in the café who’s waiting for her friend. She likes listening to Bach, not so keen on opera, her friend is the other way round; her husband is very musical but doesn’t much like going to concerts. Well, tastes do differ. 

The four pieces are played out of the order of their numbering, starting with ‘Suite Number 3’. Fourteen players strike up, led by brass and drum heralding an arrival. Strings respond with a rapid dance. Then a melancholy theme, just strings and harpsichord, perhaps saudade or lost love. The brass players stand attentively, then re-join for the next movement, a merry dance conjuring up a playground or a country fair. Wind players complete the melodies set by the strings. Finally, the drummer announces we are ready to come home, and I can hear why the word “swing” is linked to Bach. 

‘Suite Number 1’. Gone are the trumpets. In comes the horn leading the strings into something exquisitely mystical, followed by a contrasting courtly dance. The horn player is placed in the centre, tall and mobile, the only one of the black garmented players to move with the dancing rhythms. Director John Butt’s hands alternate each moment between playing the harpsichord and grabbing the ensemble as conductor. In the next movement we seem to be walking towards an ending, but it’s the sixth that lifts the pace with a duet between wind players before the final denouement. The audience are rapt, stock still. Am I the only one whose toes are tapping inside my shoes? The applause is powerful.   

In the interval I talk to the young man selling ice cream. He’s been a professional footballer, now studying criminology, and plays acoustic guitar. His uncle spent his career backing Elton John. The ice cream tray hangs heavy on his neck. 

‘Suite Number 2’. The ensemble shrinks to six with a new face to play the flute. At first a stately procession, then a babbling brook, the flute upstream, the strings below. Butt is now busy at the harpsichord, directing the group with head and eyes. Second movement has many moods from pretty to plaintive, without the grandeur of the other suites. The staging reflects the shape of the music: flute, strings and harpsichord, bass. At times the flute sounds suspended above the others who support it. They end with theme and many variations, picking up pace towards the finishing line. The transfixed audience explodes with clapping, especially for the flautist. 

‘Suite Number 4’. The whole ensemble is back, minus flautist. A big opening, drums and all, suggests a stately entrance. They go on, the whole group intermingling, trumpet and drums intermittently punching through. Amazingly, my neighbour has nodded off. Everyone else is alert, hanging on every note. The last movement could accompany an archangel or an emperor taking the world by storm. 

Cover photo: Cameron Leask