Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) as boundary-crosser. That is the red thread that musicologist Raffaele Mellace unfolds in the extensive cd notes, and precisely that idea has Cristiano Gaudio taken as a programmatic starting point for his second solo album. Shifting boundaries: in compositional ambition, in the technical possibilities of the instrument, in transcription practice. These are words that sound easy, but which Gaudio convincingly realizes on this album.
The Sicilian harpsichordist, laureate of the prestigious competitions of Brugge and Leipzig, grew artistically in the schools of Olivier Baumont and Blandine Rannou in Paris, and of Francesco Corti and Jörg-Andreas Bötticher at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. His debut album Händel vs. Scarlatti was awarded a Diapason d'Or and the Choc de l'année 2022 of Classica. With Bach on the Edge he continues that line unabated.
The programme opens with the Chromatische Fantasie en Fuga BWV 903, and that choice says much. This is not music to begin cautiously with: the work immediately plunges the listener into the deep end. Gaudio plays the Fantasia with an almost theatrical urgency. The toccata-like opening wave, with its furious runs and sudden silences, has something visionary and reckless about it. He does not let the music unfold neatly, but truly arise, as if it comes to life improvising under his hands. When the storm suddenly gives way to the freer arpeggio section, that transition feels both unexpected and completely self-evident.
The instrumental recitative that follows – the emotional heart of the Fantasia – strikes through its restrained intensity. Every phrase seems to hesitate in search of words, whereby the harpsichord here almost acquires the vulnerability of a human voice. Gaudio builds the subsequent three-part Fuga with great self-evidence, as if the music reveals itself as it goes. What strikes most is how the tension remains alive throughout without ever sounding contrived. He doses the build-up with a rare sense of breath and direction, whereby the fuga not only convinces, but truly fascinates.
Then follows the transcription for harpsichord BWV 964 of the Second Violin Sonata – an arrangement by Bach himself and at the same time a fascinating glimpse into his compositional workshop. What in the solo violin part is often only hidden present, unfolds here into a rich and layered polyphonic landscape. Gaudio senses that instinctively. He brings the different voices to the fore with great clarity without the music losing its natural breath or rhetorical suppleness.
Especially the monumental Fuga, the centrepiece of the work, makes a deep impression. Gaudio builds it with great calm and self-evidence, never falling into intellectual emphasis or mere virtuosic display. The music maintains its direction and tension throughout, yet sounds at the same time surprisingly free and mobile. What makes this performance so strong is precisely that combination of clear thinking and spontaneous musicality. Everything here seems to follow a self-evident inner logic, as if the music invents itself as it is played.
With Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier BWV 731 comes a first moment of calm. Gaudio's own transcription of the organ chorale for harpsichord is discreetly and intelligently worked out. The transition from organ timbre to the plucking technique of the harpsichord means here no loss, but a shift in perspective. Immediately afterwards follows a Prelude, an early fantasy in which Bach experiments with free forms and unexpected harmonic turns. Gaudio plays the piece with a beautiful natural breathing, without wanting to smooth out its fragmentary character.
That free experiment gets a monumental counterpart in the following Ricercare a 6 from the Musikalische Opfer. This piece – Bach at his most uncompromising contrapuntally – demands utmost concentration from player and listener alike. Gaudio succeeds in keeping the six voices transparent without losing sight of the monumental architecture of the work. Here the recording takes on something almost hypnotic: strict in line, but never dry.
After that intellectual culmination, Gaudio moves again towards intimacy with O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde groß BWV 622 from the Orgelbüchlein, also arranged by himself for harpsichord. The sober expressiveness with which he lets the chorale melody breathe makes a deep impression. The piece sounds nowhere sentimental, rather intensely human.
Subsequently sounds the Prelude en Fuga in b-klein BWV 869 from the first book of the Wohltemperierte Klavier. That is dramaturgically cleverly placed: after the strict polyphony of the Ricercare and the contemplative peace of the chorale, this music sounds like a synthesis of intellect and expression. The fugue theme, which by exception contains all notes of the chromatic scale – presumably a unique instance in the entire history of music – continuously seeks the boundaries of tonality and counterpoint. Gaudio plays the preludium with an almost restrained breathing, while in the fuga he keeps the complex lines clear without sounding academic. The music keeps moving, breathing, searching.
The large Toccata BWV 912 subsequently forms the virtuosic centerpiece of the album. The work unfolds as a polyptych of contrasting episodes, full of abrupt mood shifts and metrical surprises – an early work, yet already brimming with the daring ambition that would characterize Bach throughout his life. Gaudio navigates that capricious structure with impressive rhythmic sense and a sharp feeling for building tension. All the more beautiful is how order suddenly emerges in the closing measures, as if the music, after all its wanderings, unexpectedly regains its balance.
As a finale, Gaudio chooses Erbarm dich mein, o Herre Gott BWV 721, again his own transcription of an organ chorale. This proves to be a particularly strong programmatic decision. After all the virtuosity and contrapuntal ambition, the album does not end in triumph, but in restrained contemplation. It is music that does not wish to impress, but to resonate – and precisely because of this it lingers.
The instrument itself also deserves mention: a harpsichord built by Andrea Restelli in 2021 after a model by Christian Vater from 1738, recorded in the Auditorium della Compagnia in Tuscan Montecastelli Pisano. Ken Yoshida's recording gives the instrument a warm, direct presence without overemphasizing the room acoustics.
With Bach on the Edge, Cristiano Gaudio confirms himself as a harpsichordist who combines technical mastery and musical insight in a rare way. An album that does not easily let go.