The viola may be the punch line for many musical jokes today, but Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart loved the viola. In addition to his famous Sinfonia Concertante for Violin and Viola and several duos for the same combination of instruments, all six of his extant string quintets were written for two violins, two violas, and a cello. Why might he have favored the instrument? Due to its acoustic imperfection, its muted tone provides a warm sound that balances the sharpness of the violin and the resonance of the cello, and with two on hand, this is even more evident. Second, he was an accomplished violist and often preferred taking the instrument when playing chamber music with friends. The String Quintet No. 4 in G Minor, K. 516, is one of two he completed in spring 1787—fourteen years after his previous effort in the genre. (It is thought that he composed K. 516 and its companion, K. 515 in C Major, as a contrasting pair, much like his Symphonies Nos. 40 in G Minor and 41 in C Major.)

Throughout the String Quintet No. 4, Mozart uses violas to bridge the sonic gap between the cello and the violin. The Allegro opens in the expected dramatic key of G Minor but quickly retreats to the major, setting up a contrast between dark and light. Interestingly, the opening movement ends more unsettled than it began, foreshadowing the unusual minuet that ensues. Far from courtly elegance, Mozart throws out stabbing accents that flirt with restrained anguish—and the trio section offers only a brief moment of repose from the disquietude. The Allegro ma non troppo almost becomes a story unto its own, complete with a remarkable duet for violin and viola. But Mozart reserves his heights of genius for the concluding Adagio—Allegro, which begins with a much more conventional slow movement that paves the way for a highly unorthodox conclusion in G Major, the music’s lively, carefree, and exhilarating mood banishing the darkness that has come before.

Johann Sebastian Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier is a monument not just in Baroque music—the period between 1600 and 1750—but in solo classical keyboard music generally. Published in two books, one in 1722 when Bach was working in Cöthen and probably composing his Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, the other in 1742 when he was in Leipzig, the collection consists of 48 preludes and fugues exploring each of the 12 major and minor keys. "Well-tempered" points the way to a tuning system that worked well in every key, a circumstance still unusual in developing keyboard instruments.

Given that Bach was exploring the possibilities of the future, it is fortuitous that the Borromeo Quartet’s Nicholas Kitchen took advantage of one of its inconveniences when arranging both volumes of the Well-Tempered Clavier for string quartet. As he wrote in his notes, the project began on a “bus in Romania, November 4, 2016,” and continued every time the quartet traveled.

Beijing traffic was what opened the door to further progress! Every time that we moved anywhere in the city to rehearse or play, we spent nearly an hour in traffic. Not having to drive myself, I decided to dive into the project that had been waiting so long— arranging Book One for string quartet. And indeed, after a few more traffic jams, I had a good start.

Although Kitchen’s arrangements may have occupied him during his journeys, Bach’s music is far from a diversion—it demands intensity, but not overwrought drama. As Kitchen explains the experience of performing the preludes and fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier,

You have to play the dialogue of the parts feeling and hearing the intrinsic character of every detail, creating the meaning of every interval as it forms, no more, and no less. This has a kinship with the kind of listening that benefits much great quartet music, and this is probably no accident, considering the depth of the way so many great quartet composers took the Well-Tempered Clavier into their musical work. But in the Well-Tempered Clavier, the combination of complex intensity and completely distilled musical and emotional content makes demands on your listening that are extreme. Responding to these demands makes us stronger in our control and more sensitive in our perception.

Passion for Bach and Coltrane was inspired by the poetry of A. B. Spellman, from his book of poems Things I Must Have Known , (c) 2008 Coffee House Press. The poetry speaks to the musical mastery of J.S. Bach, John Coltrane and pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba, as well as religion and mortality.

I have long desired to set poetry to music and was particularly drawn to that of A.B. Spellman because of their strong references to both jazz and classical music as well as the question of faith. The tradition of Passions or musical settings of the Gospel narratives dates to the 4th Century. Bach wrote several though only two have survived. Here the premise of the Passion is explored rather than the actual Biblical accounts. Orated poems in lieu of the intoned Gospel. Bach, Coltrane, Rubalcaba and Spellman in lieu of the traditional Biblical characters. And though the work is original, it is anchored by this poetry with reference to two significant works by Bach and Coltrane, The Goldberg Variations and A Love Supreme, works written at the pinnacle of their maturation. Passion explores the influence of spirituality on the art of these masters and asks the inevitable question, what if J.S. Bach and John Coltrane might chance to meet?

Whether the six Brandenburg concertos constitute a meaningful collection has been the subject of scholarly debate. It is believed that Bach composed them for his famously skilled ensemble in Cœthen, where he served as music director from 1717 to 1723. Dedicated in 1721 to Christian Ludwig, the Margrave of Brandenburg, they may have served as an elaborate musical “resume.” It was no secret that Bach was dissatisfied with his situation at Cœthen and hoped to gain a position elsewhere. Though they didn’t secure him a job, the concertos have long since earned a place among Bach’s most beloved works.

All six Brandenburg Concertos make strong individual statements, and the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major, BWV 1050, is particularly bold. In an unexpected move, Bach uses the harpsichord—an instrument usually relegated to the continuo group—as a solo instrument along with violin and flute. Given his stature as a keyboard player, it is unsurprising that Bach played a leading role in liberating the harpsichord from its traditional role as an accompanying instrument. During his time in Cöthen, Bach wrote several sonatas for multiple instruments in which the harpsichord is an equal partner, and while in Leipzig, he innovated the keyboard concerto.

Because of the harpsichord's leading role, the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 is sometimes described as the very first keyboard concerto—and the reason for this is apparent from the beginning. As the first movement unfolds, the harpsichord's bravura statements become more restless and intense, suddenly erupting in a strikingly virtuosic, unaccompanied episode that transgresses all boundaries of genre, harmony, and rhythm. This remarkable moment has attracted all kinds of commentary, from musicologists who see it as a calculated subversion of social roles to rock musicians who see parallels with their music.

It is possible, however, that Bach’s motivation for pushing the instrument to center stage was somewhat more prosaic. In 1719, Bach traveled to Berlin to purchase a new harpsichord for the Cöthen court built by Michael Mietke, a famous maker known for delicate and beautifully decorated instruments. (It was during this visit that he most likely met the dedicatee of the Brandenburg concertos.) The Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 was probably composed a year or two later, perhaps with this new instrument in mind. After this dazzling opening movement, the ensuing Affetuoso features the soloists alone in lyrical counterpoint. The concerto concludes with a dancelike Allegro, in which the harpsichord again dominates in torrents of brilliant figuration.