Time to get down to some Baroque, motherfuckers.
So, people clamour and holler at each other whenever someone pipes out some Bach. “It’s not authentic Bach,” the asshole with a non-fat dairy product fetish says, “unless it’s played upon the Harpsichord!” You want to remind the fucking creep that we bathe now of days, that dairy products really shouldn’t be used that way, and that this shit was recorded onto a computer. A fucking computer! Do you think Bach was working Windows ’95? These types of fucks won’t listen. They’re shoved way too far up their own ass to hear anything else but an echo of their own voice. But, unless we invent time travel, true authenticity is impossible. Nevertheless, that fat bastard has a point: it’s kinda cool to hear Bach on a Harpsichord. Those little trills and diddle-dee-dees make a fuckton of sense when played on an instrument that doesn’t have the resonance of a piano.
Bach fans are diehard fans. And they should calm the fuck down. Actually, no they shouldn’t. Their comments are fucking hilarious. “This is a duet! Why is [bla-dee-fucking-bla] taking over the stage?” Gasp! “Just listen to that violinist milk that romantic vibrato.” Gadzooks! Cause of all this shit, you gotta feel kinda bad for anyone that tries to interpret Bach. No matter what, you’ll hit that stage under a sea of judgmental eyes and faces cringed into tight assholes. And you just know Mr. Non-fat dairy creamer is sitting somewhere, saying under his breath, “These assholes better not fuck this up.” But Bach fans do need to lighten up. You’re talking about people that dedicated their lives to playing classical music. I think they know what they’re doing.
FYI: Before Childish Gambino, Kanye, Elvis, and The Beatles, Bach was busting bodices, saturating corsets, and raising codpieces by the thousands. He was a goddamn superstar. He gained that rep. Dude build three distinct voices in this shit, it’s the bee-knees of counterpoint, and there’s nothing like Bach to make a space feel super shwanky. These pieces are fucking awesome.
It’s not just the pressure of how this shit is “supposed” to sound that strains those who attempt to play it. Do you know the masters, monsters, and legends who have played this shit before? Fucking Gould. Gooouuullld! Argerich took a crack at this just a couple years ago. Even Keith Jarrett put his two cents forth. The list is long, intimidating, and formidable. So, how do Isabelle and Kristian do under the weight of a thousand worlds? Fucking fantastic! They have this type of rhythm and wave to the whole thing that gives this shit actual feeling. Feeling, motherfucker! They find a heart inside this dead corpse and work that shit so it beats again. The harpsichord and violin play off each other and reveal a playful and wondrous game of melody that Bach made up so very long ago. It’s beautiful music, played beautifully, and it’s beautifully recorded. In a word? It’s fucking brilliant.