Suite No.1 for solo cello Op.72 (1965)

The immediate inspiration for Britten’s three solo Cello Suites was the genius of Mstislav Rostropovich, to whom the whole series is dedicated. By the time he wrote the first of them he had known and admire the cellist’s playing for at least five years and had already the Cello Sonata Op.65 and the Cello Symphony Op.68 . Another inspiration, obviously, was the Bach solo cello suites, of which Rostropovich was himself an enlightened exponent. They were not so much a model, however, as a challenge, a stimulus to create a thoroughly distinctive 20th-century equivalent to an essentially baroque form.

The symmetrical construction of Suite No.1, where recurring Canto material is interspersed with character pieces, is a characterisitic Britten strategy. If the contemplative double-stopped Canto primo is a tribute to Bach in sarabande mode, the Fuga represents a departure. Fugues regularly occur as the second movement of Bach’s solo violin sonatas but there is not one example in the cello suites. While the Fuga here is less ambitious in contrapuntal terms than that of the Suite No.2, it is a resourceful example with, following the second of two non-fugal episodes, a closing section radiantly illuminated by harmonics.

Following without a break (like all the succeeding movements), the Lamento spontaneously develops an intimate melodic line of the kind that Rostropovich sustained with so little apparent effort and so much expressive effect. A comparatively brief recall of the opening material (Canto secondo) is succeeded by an exclusively pizzicato Serenata, where the precedent is clearly not to be found in Bach but rather in the guitar-style Sérénade of the Debussy Sonata. The Marcia makes a prominent feature of other post-Bach devices, most prominently harmonics evoking trumpet calls and percussive col legno simulations of drum beats – at a distance at first but getting nearer before they give way to the impassioned song of the middle section.

A full-scale, though varied, repeat of the first movement (Canto terzo) precedes a remarkable Bordone, which sustains a drone D throughout. In the first half the D lies between left-hand pizzicato utterances and animato semiquaver figuration drawn by the bow and then, without stopping as a mute is applied, it acts as the accompaniment to a lyrical, almost folk-like melody crossing over and under it with remarkable flexibility. The Canto material is also recalled in the last movement but fragmentarily as significant sostenuto or tranquillo phrases from it intervene in the presto and ultimately allargando activity of a characteristic Moto perpetuo.

The immediate inspiration for Britten’s three solo Cello Suites was the genius of Mstislav Rostropovich, to whom the whole series is dedicated. The composer had first met the cellist when the latter gave an early performance of Shostakovich’s First Cello Concerto in the Royal Festival Hall in 1960. By the time Britten got to work on the first Cello Suite Op.72, having in the meantime written the Cello Sonata Op.65 and the Cello Symphony Op.68 for the same soloist, he knew the Rostropovich technique and personality exceptionally well – which must have been a reassuring support for a composer engaged on music that, texturally, leaves him nowhere to hide.

Another inspiration, obviously, was the Bach solo cello suites, of which Rostropovich was himself an enlightened exponent. They were not so much a model, however, as a challenge, a stimulus to create a thoroughly distinctive 20th-century equivalent to a baroque form. The symmetrical construction of Suite No.1, for example, where recurring Canto material is interspersed with character pieces, is characterisitic Britten strategy. If the contemplative double-stopped Canto primo is a tribute to Bach in sarabande mode, requiring much the same control of line and sustained thinking from the cellist, the Fuga represents a departure. Fugues regularly occur as the second movement of Bach’s solo violin sonatas but there is not one example in the cello suites. While the Fuga here is less ambitious in contrapuntal terms than that of the Suite No.2, it is a resourceful example with, following the second of two non-fugal episodes, a closing section radiantly illuminated by harmonics.

Following without a break (like all the succeeding movements), the Lamento intimately and spontaneously develops a melodic line of the kind that Rostropovich sustained with so little apparent effort and so much expressive effect. Its central climax is the emotional core of the whole work. A comparatively brief recall of the opening material (Canto secondo) is succeeded by an exclusively pizzicato Serenata, where the precedent is clearly not to be found in Bach but rather in the Sérénade of the Debussy Sonata. The Marcia makes a prominent feature of other post-Bach devices, most prominently harmonics evoking trumpet calls and percussive col legno echoes of drum beats – at a distance at first but getting nearer before they give way to the impassioned song of the middle section.

The one full-scale, though varied, repeat of the first movement (Canto terzo) precedes a remarkable Bordone, which sustains a drone D throughout. In the first half the D lies between left-hand pizzicato utterances and animato semiquaver figuration drawn by the bow and then, without stopping as a mute is applied, it acts as the accompaniment to a lyrical, almost folk-like melody crossing over and under it with remarkable flexibility. The Canto material is also recalled in the last movement but fragmentarily as significant sostenuto or tranquillo phrases from it intervene in the presto and ultimately allargando activity of a characteristic Moto perpetuo.