Like Bert and his bottle caps or an old woman and her cats, a cellist can never own too many versions of Bach's Six Unaccompanied Cello Suites. The Suites can be used for relaxation or analysis. Every time I listen to it or play it, I notice something different. A former cello teacher gave me a copy of the complete Suites as a going away present and it's still something I "read" and play from whenever I want to warm up or practice or simply to noodle and let my mind wander.
Recently I got a hold of Yo-Yo Ma's 1983 recording of the Suites. One can admire Ma's flawless technical prowess, something an amateur like myself would always aspire to but rarely reach. However, it was today that I realized how perfect the weather's mood was for the Suites.
This morning when I stumbled about back and from lab, it had been drizzling. The air was contemplative, morose--not like Ma's version--but like the gritty playing of Pablo Casals, the man who made the Suites famous, who studied the Suites his whole life, worrying on it like drips of water that eventually makes holes in stone. Casals' breathy version echoed in my head as I watched earthworms twitching against the pavement because their tunnels had been flooded and as I passed by a young man in baggy pants, eyes downcast, walking his pearl white pit bull with tan hindquarters. The dog had been paralyzed for a moment, frightened by the sight I made as an enormous green phantom, before scurrying behind its owner like the impossibly fast skittering of Casals' strings.
Later, the rain turned to snow and the wind blew it into my face even when I tried to duck my head down. Now this heavy blizzard was more of Ma's style, Ma's version of the Suites--manic, highly emotional. The poor earthworms that had been above ground previously, gasping for air, were slowly freezing as the temperature dropped. Most of them had rolled over onto their backs exposing tender pink bellies. The sentimental solo cello played lingering notes, mentally, at the worms' inevitable deaths.
Perhaps a Mozart Requiem would have been more appropriate for such a sad scene, but I found Bach's Suites more fitting. A choir for a requiem is a flock of harpies, an army of demons, ready to devour an errant soul. I saw none of this. The soloist is alone except for the music just as the dying earthworm is alone except for the wet snow.
