【古殿唱片音樂故事】一個親筆寫下立場，一個每天把巴赫當功課：認識傅立葉(Pierre Fournier,1906-1986)與史塔克(János Starker,1924-2013)的巴赫無伴奏大提琴組曲

古殿殿主

1960 年代末，日本樂評家藁科雅美在一篇解說裡寫道：卡薩爾斯事實上已經離開獨奏舞台，如今世界的三大大提琴家，是蘇聯的姆斯蒂斯拉夫·羅斯托波維契(Mstislav Rostropovich,1927-2007)、法國的皮耶·傅立葉(Pierre Fournier,1906-1986)，以及匈牙利出生的亞諾什·史塔克(János Starker,1924-2013)。

這三人中的傅立葉與史塔克，一生都不只一次錄下巴赫的六首無伴奏大提琴組曲。但後世認識最多、發行最廣、最為人熟知的，各自只有一套：傅立葉 1960 年為 Archiv 在漢諾威錄的全集，與史塔克 1963、1965 年為 Mercury 在紐約錄的全集。

這兩份錄音還有一個很少被注意的共同點：它們都附有可以細讀的文獻。史塔克親自提筆，寫下一篇關於這些組曲的文章；傅立葉沒有自己寫，但 Archiv 為這份錄音留下了一張詳盡的資料表，日本樂評家渡邊學而也為它寫了一篇傅立葉的小傳，轉述了他的許多看法。

這篇文章不比較誰的演奏好壞，而是把這些文獻放在一起讀，看看兩位大師各自從哪裡走向巴赫，又在這一次錄音裡留下了什麼。

兩份錄音的時空

傅立葉，1960 年 12 月，漢諾威。依 Archiv 的資料表，這份錄音在漢諾威的 Beethoven-Saal 完成，日期是 12 月 20–22 日與 28–29 日；製作人 Karl-Heinz Schneider，錄音總監兼錄音師 Heinz Wildhagen。依逐曲紀錄，前五首在聖誕節前三天內錄完，聖誕假期之後，再單獨花兩天錄技術最艱難、原本是為五弦樂器而寫的第六號。傅立葉當時 54 歲，渡邊學而稱這是他「技巧上、音樂上都正值油脂飽滿」的時期。

史塔克，1963 與 1965 年，紐約。錄音地點是紐約 Fine Recording 的 Ballroom Studio A，一座由舊舞廳改建的錄音室。第二、五號先在 1963 年 4 月錄好，單獨發行後反應極好，才促成了 1965 年 9 月與 12 月其餘四首的錄音。製作人 Harold Lawrence，錄音師 Robert Eberenz。史塔克當時 39 至 41 歲。

這兩個年齡本身就是一個差別：一個是已經登台三十多年、正在高峰的中年大師；一個是剛從樂團首席轉為獨奏家不久、鋒氣正盛的後輩。

錄音的美學也不同。Archiv 是德國留聲機公司旗下專門錄製早期音樂的品牌，把每一份錄音當作一份文獻來處理；Mercury 的「Living Presence」則是實驗重心、以極少數麥克風捕捉真實空間感聞名的美國錄音系列。一個追求「依據」，一個追求「臨場」。

兩份文獻

史塔克的文章，原本印在 Mercury 第二、五號1963年單行版的封底，後來由藁科雅美譯成日文，題為〈關於巴赫的「無伴奏大提琴組曲」〉。那不是一篇客套的樂曲解說，而是一份演奏立場的聲明。

傅立葉這邊的文獻則有兩層：一層是 Archiv 的德、英、日三語資料表，寫明作曲時地、樂譜版本、校訂者、使用樂器、錄音時地與人員；另一層是渡邊學而的〈皮耶·傅立葉——人與藝術〉，轉述了傅立葉對練習、顫音、樂器與曲目的看法。

以下就把兩份文獻，分成幾個面向並列來讀。

對「傳統」的態度

史塔克：在文章裡指出，今天被稱為「傳統」的巴赫演奏法，是作品寫成大約兩百年後才產生的，而且幾乎是帕布羅·卡薩爾斯(Pablo Casals,1876-1973)一個人把這些曲子帶進音樂世界時建立的。所以「符合巴赫時代樣式的演奏」這種評價，在他看來全無價值，也全無根據。現代大提琴的功能、現代音樂廳的條件，都與巴赫時代不同；一個詮釋是否正當，要看它在實際演奏時，能不能真的把音樂送到聽眾面前。

寫下這些話的人，對卡薩爾斯並不陌生。1931 年，七歲的史塔克在後台被卡薩爾斯親吻臉頰、給予鼓勵。他反對的不是卡薩爾斯，而是把任何一個人的詮釋神化成唯一正統。

也正因如此，史塔克的態度，才真正是對卡薩爾斯的尊敬。卡薩爾斯從來沒有把自己變成正統；是他的影響成為主流之後，後人才把他奉為正統。回到卡薩爾斯當年把這些組曲帶上舞台的時候，他所做的事，在某種程度上與史塔克相似：沒有前例可以依循，只能靠自己的意志與理解去詮釋，不僅要說服其他人，首先也必須說服自己。史塔克拒絕的，是把卡薩爾斯的答案當成標準答案；他繼承的，卻正是卡薩爾斯尋找答案的方式。

傅立葉：的立場則從另一個方向走來。渡邊學而轉述，傅立葉不演奏「與過去的音樂完全斷絕的作曲家」的作品，因為他主張「不論多新的音樂，都不可能與過去斷絕」；他最愛的作曲家是巴赫與貝多芬，也說過愛音樂的藝術家，不可能把巴赫與貝多芬排除在外。對傅立葉來說，「與過去的連續」不是需要質疑的東西，而是他選擇曲目的準繩。

兩個人的出身，或許可以幫助理解這個差別。傅立葉生於巴黎，在巴黎音樂院師事安德烈·埃金(André Hekking,1866-1925)與保羅·巴澤萊爾(Paul Bazelaire,1886-1958)，是從法國弦樂的正統中心走出來的。史塔克的老師阿道夫·席弗(Adolf Schiffer,1873-1950)是大衛·波普爾(David Popper,1843-1913)在李斯特音樂院的弟子與繼任者，史塔克自稱波普爾是他的「大提琴祖父」；但他的一生是一連串的離開：二戰期間被關進勞動營三個月，兩位同為小提琴家的哥哥沒能活下來；1946 年離開匈牙利，在法國待了兩年後到美國，先後在達拉斯交響樂團、大都會歌劇院、弗利茲·萊納(Fritz Reiner,1888-1963)的芝加哥交響樂團當首席。一個站在傳承裡，一個在幾次斷裂之後重新來過。

樂譜依據：同一份抄本

巴赫的大提琴組曲沒有親筆手稿傳世。兩份文獻在這裡提到了同一份東西。

史塔克寫道：我們手上有的，是巴赫第二任妻子安娜·瑪格達萊娜·巴赫(Anna Magdalena Bach,1701-1760)與學生凱爾納的抄本，但都抄得相當草率，錯誤不少；就算是明顯的錯，也說不準是不是巴赫故意的。力度與速度的指示一個也沒有，印行的樂譜大多只是根據巴赫其他作品的比較研究。

傅立葉這份錄音的資料表則寫著：樂譜是 Urtext，依據正是安娜·瑪格達萊娜手抄本的影印版（柏林國家圖書館 Mus. ms. Bach P 26，1944 年維也納 Doblinger 出版），校訂者為保羅·葛魯默(Paul Grümmer,1879-1965)與 E. H. Müller von Asow。

同一份抄本，在一份文獻裡是「不可盡信」的證據，在另一份文獻裡是演奏的底本。但兩人其實都繞過了卡薩爾斯的傳統，回到巴赫身邊最近的那份紙。差別在於：史塔克回去之後，看到的是紙上沒有寫的那些，於是把判斷的責任拿回自己手上；Archiv 與傅立葉則把那份紙當作出發點，寫進了錄音的依據。

技術觀：純淨的音，與演奏家的選擇

傅立葉的話幾乎都關於「音」本身。渡邊學而轉述，他說顫音只是最後用來增添表情的調味料：先要拉出純淨的音，顫音才可以加上去，以為顫音能製造音色是錯的。他每天的基礎練習一定有斷奏與波音——用最短的音，練習把音完全拉響。而他用來完成這些基礎練習的教材，就是巴赫的無伴奏大提琴組曲。他每天都拉巴赫，成為大師之後也沒有停過。對傅立葉來說，這些組曲不只是曲目，而是他弓法與音色的根。

史塔克的話則幾乎都關於「選擇」。他說，音符、裝飾音、樂句、力度、速度，所有引人注意的改變，都是每位演奏家對作品表現的個人願望，而是否合法，取決於它能不能傳達給聽眾。他甚至在文章裡坦白了自己的一個選擇：第五號組曲原本要把最高的 A 弦降一個全音到 G，巴赫靠這種特殊調弦得到他要的和音；但現代的大提琴家，「包括我自己在內」，都用一般調弦拉，和音結構因此必然有偏差——因為現代的金屬弦一旦放鬆，效果就不好。

藁科雅美對史塔克這份錄音的描述是：聽這套巴赫，沒有人能從中聽出一絲「技巧的炫耀」，或「主觀的雜質」。他也記下一個畫面：史塔克在日本開獨奏會時，走出後台前對自己說：「好，為貝多芬與布拉姆斯演奏吧。」藁科稱之為對作曲家與作品「純一的歸依」。

理性到幾乎冷酷的立場聲明，與對作品的虛心，在史塔克身上同時存在。他的文章最後，也是借管風琴家查爾斯-瑪麗·維多爾(Charles-Marie Widor,1844-1937)的話收尾：透過巴赫的音樂說出的，是純粹的宗教情感，不分民族與宗教，人人相同。

樂器

兩份文獻都寫了不少關於琴的事，而且都留下了一個值得追問的地方。

傅立葉對樂器的基本看法是：如果真能表達自己的心，就算是五美元的樂器也可以。他討厭「義大利名琴就比較好聽」這種看標籤聽音的觀念，但也不輕視名琴：1960 年 9 月在蒙特婁音樂節，祖宾·梅塔(Zubin Mehta,1936-)拿出一把 1685 年的史特拉底瓦里請他試拉，他拉到自己都醉了——三個月後，他進了漢諾威的錄音室。渡邊學而說他有三把琴，最常用的是 1855 年的法國 Bernardel；而 Archiv 的資料表寫著，這份巴赫錄音用的是 1722 年威尼斯的馬泰奧·哥弗里勒(Matteo Goffriller,1659-1742)——與巴赫在科滕寫下這些組曲（約 1720 年）幾乎同一個年代。

史塔克的愛琴是 1696 年的史特拉底瓦里「Lord Aylesford」。藁科雅美記述，1947 年格里高利·皮亞第高斯基(Gregor Piatigorsky,1903-1976)買下它，用了一年就因琴身太大而賣掉；史塔克買下後把琴橋位置抬高，讓弦長與一般大提琴相同，還抱怨它兩天沒拉，就要再花兩天才能讓它發出本來的聲音。但據 後世 Speakers Corner 復刻版黑膠的解說，史塔克在 1965 年把 Aylesford 換成了一把尺寸較一般的琴。也就是說，1963 年錄的第二、五號是 Aylesford 的聲音，1965 年錄的第一、三、四、六號則是另一把琴。

這意味著，傅立葉的全集是一把琴、十天內錄完的一個整體；史塔克的全集則跨越兩年半、兩把琴，是兩個階段的拼合。聽史塔克的第四號與第五號前後接著聽，就是聽兩把琴、兩個年份的史塔克。

速度與結構

巴赫在這六首組曲裡，除了第六號的前奏曲，幾乎沒有寫任何速度與曲想指示。速度，是演奏家得自己回答的第一個問題。

渡邊學而的分析說，傅立葉的速度，是根據每首組曲裡前奏曲與後面五首舞曲之間的主題關聯定下的，再與各種舞曲的性格相配合；重要的音不只是拉得重，而是稍稍拉長，形成巴赫音樂生命所在的節奏感，而且自然到不留心就聽不出來。Archiv 資料表標出的各組曲全長（含樂章間停頓），第一號到第六號依序是 18'40、19'03、23'15、25'30、24'46、27'00。

史塔克沒有寫他的速度怎麼定，藁科雅美強調的是它的不炫技、不摻雜主觀。以第二號為例，史塔克 1963 年錄音的單行版標示全曲約 15 分 25 秒，傅立葉則為 19 分 03 秒。 這個差距不完全是速度，反覆段的取捨、樂章間停頓的計算方式都會影響，需要實聽對照才能確定。

兩人一生的全集錄音

這兩份錄音，各自在兩人一生的巴赫裡位於哪裡？

傅立葉

• 1959　日內瓦，瑞士法語廣播電台錄音
• 1960　漢諾威，Archiv（本文所談）
• 1972　東京虎之門會館，兩晚拉完六首的現場
• 1976–77　日內瓦，Philips

史塔克

• 1950 年代初　Period／Nixa（非全集）
• 1957–59　倫敦，EMI Columbia（華爾特·李格製作，單聲道）
• 1963／1965　紐約，Mercury（本文所談）
• 1984 前後　Sefel
• 1992　紐約，RCA

傅立葉的 Archiv 是他第一份正式商業發行的全集，也是後來被 Archiv 收入「The Originals」系列、至今常被列為史上最佳的巴赫大提琴組曲之一的那一套。史塔克的 Mercury 是他第二份全集、第一份立體聲全集；在他五次錄音中，後世的發行、復刻與討論，大多集中在這一套。

這也提醒我們：當我們說「傅立葉的巴赫」或「史塔克的巴赫」，其實說的常常是這一次。兩位大師在此前此後的巴赫，都還有很多可以聽的。

放下唱針

讀完這些文獻，不妨自己聽一次。

第一號組曲的前奏曲 兩套的第一首。那一串不間斷的十六分音符裡，聽傅立葉把哪幾個音「拉長了一點點」，又聽史塔克怎樣讓每個音都站得一樣穩。

第五號組曲的前奏曲 史塔克坦白「沒有照巴赫調弦」的那一首，也是他 1963 年用 Lord Aylesford 錄下的一首。聽聽這把巨琴的低音，再聽傅立葉的哥弗里勒。

聽完之後，可以問自己一個問題：如果沒有讀過史塔克那篇文章、沒有讀過渡邊學而轉述的傅立葉，你聽到的會一樣嗎？文字讓我們聽得更清楚，還是讓我們只聽到了文字告訴我們的那些？

＊＊＊＊＊＊

[Gudian Record Music Stories] One Wrote Down His Position, One Played Bach as Daily Practice: Fournier and Starker in Bach's Suites for Solo Cello

In the late 1960s, the Japanese critic Masami Warashina wrote in a set of liner notes that Pablo Casals had in effect withdrawn from the solo stage, and that the world's three great cellists were now Mstislav Rostropovich (1927–2007) of the Soviet Union, Pierre Fournier (1906–1986) of France, and the Hungarian-born János Starker (1924–2013).

Of these three, Fournier and Starker each recorded Bach's six suites for solo cello more than once in their lives. Yet for each of them, only one set has become the best known, the most widely issued, and the most familiar to later listeners: Fournier's complete set recorded for Archiv in Hanover in 1960, and Starker's complete set recorded for Mercury in New York in 1963 and 1965.

The two recordings share something that is rarely noticed: each comes with documents worth reading closely. Starker took up the pen himself and wrote an essay on the suites. Fournier wrote nothing of his own, but Archiv left a detailed data sheet for the recording, and the Japanese critic Gakuji Watanabe wrote a short biography of Fournier for it, passing on many of his views.

This essay does not compare whose playing is better or worse. It reads these documents side by side, to see where each master came from on his way to Bach, and what each left behind in this particular recording.

The Two Recordings in Time and Place

Fournier, December 1960, Hanover. According to the Archiv data sheet, the recording was made in the Beethoven-Saal in Hanover on 20–22 and 28–29 December; producer Karl-Heinz Schneider, recording director and engineer Heinz Wildhagen. The track-by-track log shows that the first five suites were finished in the three days before Christmas, and that after the holiday two days were set aside for the Sixth alone — the most technically demanding of the set, originally written for a five-string instrument. Fournier was 54, a period Watanabe describes as the one in which he was at the full ripeness of his powers, technically and musically.

Starker, 1963 and 1965, New York. The recordings were made in Ballroom Studio A at Fine Recording in New York, a studio converted from an old ballroom. Suites Nos. 2 and 5 were recorded first, in April 1963; their separate release met with such a strong response that it led to the sessions for the remaining four in September and December 1965. Producer Harold Lawrence, engineer Robert Eberenz. Starker was between 39 and 41.

The ages alone mark a difference: one was a middle-aged master at his peak, with more than thirty years on the concert stage behind him; the other a younger artist in full stride, who had only recently moved from orchestral principal to soloist.

The recording aesthetics differ too. Archiv was the Deutsche Grammophon label devoted to early music, and it treated each recording as a document. Mercury's “Living Presence” was an American series built on experiment, famous for capturing a real sense of space with a bare minimum of microphones. One sought a basis; the other sought presence.

The Two Documents

Starker's essay was first printed on the back of Mercury's 1963 single release of Suites Nos. 2 and 5, and was later translated into Japanese by Masami Warashina under the title “On Bach's Suites for Unaccompanied Cello.” It is not a polite program note but a statement of a performer's position.

On Fournier's side, the documents come in two layers. One is Archiv's trilingual data sheet in German, English and Japanese, which sets out when and where the works were composed, the edition and its editors, the instrument used, and the date, place and personnel of the recording. The other is Watanabe's “Pierre Fournier: The Man and His Art,” which relays Fournier's views on practice, vibrato, instruments and repertoire.

What follows reads the two sets of documents side by side, in several aspects.

I. Attitudes toward “Tradition”

Starker: In his essay he points out that the way of playing Bach now called “traditional” arose some two hundred years after the works were written, and was established almost single-handedly by Pablo Casals (1876–1973) when he brought these pieces into the musical world. So to praise a performance as “faithful to the style of Bach's time” is, in his view, worthless and without foundation. The functions of the modern cello and the conditions of the modern concert hall are not those of Bach's day; whether an interpretation is legitimate depends on whether, in actual performance, it truly carries the music to the listener.

The man who wrote these words was no stranger to Casals. In 1931, the seven-year-old Starker was kissed on the cheek backstage by Casals and given his encouragement. What Starker opposed was not Casals, but the elevation of any one person's interpretation into the sole orthodoxy.

And that is exactly why Starker's attitude is the truer form of respect for Casals. Casals never made himself the orthodoxy; it was only after his influence became the mainstream that later generations enshrined him as one. Go back to the time when Casals first brought these suites to the stage, and what he was doing was, in a sense, much like what Starker did: there was no precedent to follow, only his own will and understanding to interpret by, and he had to convince not only others but, first of all, himself. What Starker refused was to treat Casals's answer as the model answer; what he inherited was precisely Casals's way of searching for an answer.

Fournier: His position comes from another direction. Watanabe relates that Fournier did not play works by “composers who have completely broken with the music of the past,” because he held that “no music, however new, can break with the past.” His favorite composers were Bach and Beethoven, and he once said that an artist who loves music cannot leave Bach and Beethoven out. For Fournier, continuity with the past was not something to be questioned; it was the measure by which he chose his repertoire.

Their backgrounds may help explain the difference. Fournier was born in Paris and studied at the Paris Conservatoire with André Hekking (1866–1925) and Paul Bazelaire (1886–1958); he came straight out of the orthodox center of French string playing. Starker's teacher Adolf Schiffer (1873–1950) was the pupil and successor of David Popper (1843–1913) at the Liszt Academy, and Starker called Popper his “cello grandfather.” But his life was a series of departures: during the Second World War he was held in a labor camp for three months, and his two brothers, both violinists, did not survive; in 1946 he left Hungary, spent two years in France, and then went to America, where he served in turn as principal cellist of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, the Metropolitan Opera, and Fritz Reiner's (1888–1963) Chicago Symphony Orchestra. One stood within a lineage; the other started over after several ruptures.

II. The Musical Text: The Same Manuscript Copy

No autograph of Bach's cello suites survives. Here the two documents refer to the same source.

Starker writes that what we have are copies by Bach's second wife, Anna Magdalena Bach (1701–1760), and by his student Kellner, both made rather carelessly and full of mistakes; even where an error is obvious, one cannot be sure Bach did not intend it. There is not a single dynamic or tempo marking, and most printed editions rest merely on comparative study of Bach's other works.

Fournier's data sheet states that the edition used is an Urtext based precisely on a facsimile of Anna Magdalena's manuscript copy (Berlin State Library, Mus. ms. Bach P 26, published by Doblinger, Vienna, 1944), edited by Paul Grümmer (1879–1965) and E. H. Müller von Asow.

The same manuscript copy is, in one document, evidence that cannot be fully trusted, and in the other, the basis of the performance. Yet both men in fact bypassed the Casals tradition and went back to the sheet of paper closest to Bach. The difference is this: when Starker went back, what he saw was everything the paper does not say, and so he took the responsibility for judgment back into his own hands; Archiv and Fournier took that paper as a point of departure and wrote it into the basis of the recording.

III. Views on Technique: The Pure Tone, and the Performer's Choices

Fournier's words are almost all about the tone itself. Watanabe relates that he called vibrato merely the seasoning added at the end for expression: first one must draw a pure tone, and only then may vibrato be added; to think vibrato creates tone color is a mistake. His daily basic practice always included staccato and mordents — using the shortest notes to practice making each note sound fully. And the material he used for this basic practice was Bach's suites for solo cello. He played Bach every day, and did not stop even after he had become a master. For Fournier these suites were not just repertoire; they were the root of his bowing and his tone.

Starker's words are almost all about choice. He says that all noticeable changes — to notes, ornaments, phrasing, dynamics, tempo — are each performer's personal wishes for the expression of the work, and whether they are legitimate depends on whether they reach the listener. In his essay he even owns up to one of his own choices: the Fifth Suite calls for the highest string, the A, to be lowered a whole step to G, a special tuning through which Bach obtained the harmonies he wanted; but modern cellists, “myself included,” play it in normal tuning, so the harmonic structure is inevitably skewed — because modern metal strings do not work well once slackened.

Warashina's description of this recording is that no one listening to Starker's Bach could hear in it a trace of “technical display” or “subjective impurity.” He also recorded a scene: at a recital in Japan, before walking out from backstage, Starker said to himself, “All right — let's play for Beethoven and Brahms.” Warashina called this a single-minded devotion to the composer and the work.

A statement of position rational to the point of coldness, and humility before the work, coexisted in Starker. His essay, too, closes with words borrowed from the organist Charles-Marie Widor (1844–1937): what speaks through Bach's music is pure religious feeling, the same for all, regardless of nation or creed.

IV. The Instruments

Both documents say a good deal about instruments, and each leaves something worth pursuing.

Fournier's basic view of instruments was that if you can truly express your heart, even a five-dollar instrument will do. He disliked the habit of listening by label — the notion that Italian instruments simply sound better — but he did not look down on great instruments either: at the Montreal festival in September 1960, Zubin Mehta (1936–) brought out a 1685 Stradivari and asked him to try it, and he played until he was entranced — three months later he walked into the Hanover studio. Watanabe says he owned three cellos, the one he used most being an 1855 French Bernardel; yet the Archiv data sheet states that this Bach recording was made on a 1722 Venetian instrument by Matteo Goffriller (1659–1742) — almost the same era in which Bach wrote these suites in Köthen (around 1720).

Starker's beloved instrument was the 1696 Stradivari “Lord Aylesford.” Warashina records that Gregor Piatigorsky (1903–1976) bought it in 1947 and sold it after a year because the body was too large; Starker, having bought it, raised the position of the bridge so that the string length matched that of an ordinary cello, and complained that if he left it unplayed for two days, it took another two days to bring back its true voice. But according to the notes for the later Speakers Corner reissue on vinyl, Starker replaced the Aylesford in 1965 with an instrument of more ordinary size. In other words, Nos. 2 and 5, recorded in 1963, are the sound of the Aylesford, while Nos. 1, 3, 4 and 6, recorded in 1965, are another cello.

This means Fournier's set is a single whole, recorded on one instrument within ten days, while Starker's spans two and a half years and two instruments, a joining of two stages. To hear Starker's Fourth and Fifth Suites back to back is to hear two instruments, and two different years of Starker.

V. Tempo and Structure

In these six suites, apart from the Prelude of the Sixth, Bach wrote almost no indications of tempo or character. Tempo is the first question the performer must answer alone.

Watanabe's analysis says that Fournier's tempos were set according to the thematic relations between the prelude of each suite and the five dances that follow, and then matched to the character of each dance; important notes are not merely played more heavily but slightly lengthened, creating the rhythmic sense in which the life of Bach's music lies — so naturally that one would not notice it without paying attention. The total durations given on the Archiv data sheet (including pauses between movements) are, from No. 1 to No. 6: 18'40, 19'03, 23'15, 25'30, 24'46, 27'00.

Starker did not write about how he set his tempos; what Warashina emphasizes is its freedom from display and from subjectivity. Taking No. 2 as an example, the single release of Starker's 1963 recording gives a total of about 15 minutes 25 seconds, against Fournier's 19 minutes 03 seconds. The gap is not entirely a matter of tempo: the choice of whether to take repeats and the way pauses between movements are counted also play a part, and only side-by-side listening can settle it.

The Complete Recordings of Their Lifetimes

Where does each of these recordings sit within the Bach of each man's life?

Fournier

• 1959 — Geneva, Radio Suisse Romande recording
• 1960 — Hanover, Archiv (discussed here)
• 1972 — Tokyo, Toranomon Hall, a live performance of all six over two evenings
• 1976–77 — Geneva, Philips

Starker

• Early 1950s — Period / Nixa (not complete)
• 1957–59 — London, EMI Columbia (produced by Walter Legge, mono)
• 1963 / 1965 — New York, Mercury (discussed here)
• Around 1984 — Sefel
• 1992 — New York, RCA

Fournier's Archiv was his first commercially released complete set, and the one Archiv later included in its “The Originals” series, still often listed among the finest recordings of Bach's cello suites ever made. Starker's Mercury was his second complete set and his first in stereo; of his five recordings, most later releases, reissues and discussion have centered on this one.

This is also a reminder: when we say “Fournier's Bach” or “Starker's Bach,” we are often really speaking of this one occasion. Both masters left much more Bach, before and after, that is worth hearing.

Lowering the Stylus

After reading these documents, why not listen for yourself?

The Prelude of Suite No. 1 The first track of both sets. In that unbroken stream of sixteenth notes, listen for which notes Fournier “stretches just a little,” and then for how Starker makes every note stand equally firm.

The Prelude of Suite No. 5 The piece in which Starker admits he “did not tune as Bach asked,” and also one of those he recorded in 1963 on the Lord Aylesford. Listen to the bass of that giant instrument, then to Fournier's Goffriller.

Afterwards, you might ask yourself a question: had you not read Starker's essay, or Watanabe's account of Fournier, would you have heard the same thing? Do words help us hear more clearly — or do they leave us hearing only what the words have told us?