Sonata for Solo Violin No. 2 in A Minor

An aura of profound wistfulness enshrouds the opening of the Sonata No. 2. A movement of statuesque yet supple immediacy, the “Grave” plunges down almost to the violin’s bottom note after the beseeching first chord, and then unfolds a searching soliloquy punctuated by chords that question more often than they reassure. The ending is particularly striking, as two harmonised notes cautiously crawl upwards to a final bare octave—the more austere because the open E string lends a chill to the top note. What follows is a fugue that was praised by Bach’s contemporaries for his ability to generate such an extended web of elaborate counterpoint out of the compact and pithy subject—a two-bar sound-bite whose opening tag is never far away. After such concentration, an expansive C major “Andante” beckons, challenging the player to maintain the lyricism of a serene upper melody while accompanying it with an anchoring, lullaby-like tread. An echo-suffused romp (“Allegro”) brings BWV 1003 to a close; but “romp” is perhaps too irreverent a word if a theory that the sonata is associated with the events leading up to Easter is to be accepted (the “Grave”, it’s proposed, conceals quotations from a Passiontide Chorale). Whatever the case, the Sonata certainly caught the ear of Bach’s son Wilhelm Friedmann, who made a persuasive transcription for harpsichord. About J.S. Bach's Partitas and Sonatas for Solo Violin Although Bach was arguably the pre-eminent keyboard exponent of his age he began his career as a violinist. He preferred to direct the orchestra at Köthen from the string section, and, thanks to friendship with the likes of Westhoff and Pisendel, understood the instrument inside out. Just how profound was that understanding can be deduced from the Sei Solo (Six Solos) for violin without bass accompaniment that were assembled in a manuscript dated 1720. Pinnacles of the German violin tradition, the pieces cast an inquisitive eye on developments in Italy, comprising of three Partitas that acknowledge the dance-led sovereignty of the French Suites, and three Sonatas laid out along Italian “Church” lines alternating movements slow(ish) and fast.