Bachfest in Leipzig

In 2019, I get to attend for a few days the Bachfest in Leipzig, which takes place all over the city, indoors in the old churches, outdoors on the plazas – an unforgettable experience. My last event is an evening with Andras Schiff playing Bach’s Complete Partitas for Keyboard, and it happens to be an extremely hot day in June. At 8 pm it is still 96 degrees Fahrenheit outside – the sun has not quite set. Imagine a huge low ceilinged concert hall with no air conditioning, indoors the temperature is approximately 99 degrees. The disciplined audience is for the most part waiting in their seats, the music is delayed, all doors are kept open to create an elusive draft. Is the concert going to happen? I turn around, observing people, ruminating about me being a foreigner in my own birth country. Every year world famous musicians and audiences from all over the world come together here. These classical music fans speak many languages, French, Italian, German, Dutch, English. For the sold-out concert the rows of chairs are tightly cramped together. The patient demeanor of a younger Japanese man in his late thirties perhaps, catches my eye, he is sitting close by in the row behind me, clearly by himself. His composed anticipation has an air of purposefulness. I don’t remember if I ask him a question, or if he first addresses me. He speaks some German, his name is Nozomu. He knows all about Bach’s music and life, and is a concert pianist with emphasis on Bach, his great love. I am grateful for this meaningful distraction from the waiting and stifling air.  

Nozomu asks someone to take a photo of us in the concert hall at intermission

As we share simple sentences and compare notes, I feel suddenly home. I grew up with Bach music and deeply love it. And finally, Sir Andras Schiff appears on stage to applause. A hush befalls the crowd. Out of utter silence, the first piano notes arise like glinting deep-sea pearls. Magically they are being transported through the thick air, tickling the bare skin of my arms and legs, inviting goosebumps. Soon the sound is all enveloping. I sense myself slipping into a heightened trance where melodies and rhythms, rivulets of sweat and cascading notes, shifting bodies and the stillness of pauses, fragrances and feelings of all kinds, mingle generously. Encapsulated in the unwavering concentration of this highly sensitive musician. His artistry, craft, ease and stamina blend perfectly with Bach’s Six Partitas. At times, I am almost fainting from so much sensory input, the sweltering heat, and the tight embrace of humankind’s innate yearning to share. 

Bach in front of the Thomaskirche in Leipzig where he was cantor

At intermission of this two and half hour concert, Nozomu and I walk out onto the terrace, get some water, and share our impressions and awe. The air has cooled slightly – although hardly a breeze – the light of dusk comforting. We both adore Schiff’s interpretation. Nozomu tells me about the concert of Bach’s Goldberg Variations he just gave a week ago in Dresden where he had studied over the years with his renown German teacher. As I exclaim my sorrow to not have heard him play, he pulls from his small backpack his CD for me. Our conversation is simple. Both of us pleased by our chance encounter, a true respect, ease and intimacy between us. For me crossing languages, and experiencing the limitations this creates, brings about an extra aliveness, all senses perk up making room for sincere communication. The second half of the concert highlights the unbelievable stamina of Schiff. He is wearing a suit with tie, sweat pouring down his face, dripping from his chin, as he is playing like a god – undeterred. He and we the audience are carried away and illuminated by Johann Sebastian Bach who composed this music almost 300 hundred years ago. At the end of the concert, as the thunderstorm of clapping keeps slowly dying out, I turn back to Nozomu who smiles and says wistfully: “Das nächste sind für mich die Partiten, nicht wahr?” Yes, next for him is the adventure of performing and recording the Partitas. I nod enthusiastically. 

 

Next morning we meet at Café Kandler (next to the Bach Archives) to say good-bye  

 

Nozoumu and I stay in touch via occasional e-mail and Facebook. He is a well-known and dedicated Bach scholar and pianist in Japan, bringing Bach’s music to audiences through performances, lectures, radio programs – his specialty are the Goldberg Variations which he has been reciting for years every January in a concert lecture. Music is the most amazing bridge – and language – of all.  

 

This Sunday morning I am listening to the Bach Partitas performed by Nozumu Takahashi. A month ago, he released the recording, mailing his CD all the way from Japan to Berkeley in California, with a beautiful painting of Mount Fuji, and greetings in German. His musical interpretation is stunning and sensitive – I am deeply moved. He plays with mastery, serene authority, lightness, incredible fluidity, and highly fine-tuned aliveness to Bach’s dynamics and expressions. The partitas never were quite my favorite, but in Nozomu’s hands and voice they are!  For the first time I understand them.