Bach's the Best
A simple reason why Bach is so revered
A few months back I wrote of the transformation of Bach’s B-minor mass into a song on “Climbing Mt. Fuji.” This process of contrafactum, of adapting Western music to Japanese ends, was an explicit part of Japanese educational policy during the Meiji and Taisho eras’ “wakon yousai”: 和魂洋才 “Spirit of Japan, Knowledge of the West,” itself a reboot of 和魂漢才, “Spirit of Japan, Knowledge of China”.
Japan’s love affair with the Bach’s Passions is renowned, publicized in the English-speaking world by Uwe Siemon-Netto. Reasons for this renown range from simple to profound, or both. Aesthetics reign supreme in the land of the rising sun, so it is no surprise that from fashion to furniture, the world respects both Japanese production and taste.
Traditional crafts are honored. The government awards the title of “living national treasures” to the most accomplished artisans for their embodied knowledge of pottery, metalworking, printmaking and the like.
But the object of expertise is often of less weighty Japanese cultural value, such as hair cutting scissors by Akito. Or an imported craft, like the famous luthier Kazuo Yairi, whose guitars were preferred by Paul McCartney and Santana. The same can be said of pipe organs, Tetsuo Kusakari and Munetaka Yokota being a couple of examples.
Even in industry, the same claim to fame holds. From optics to robotics, watches, cars, tools, and heavy equipment, Japanese engineering is globally famous for its quality, precision, and durability.
Seven out of the top ten most reliable automobile engines are Japanese. When it comes to the longevity of the whole car, it’s 90% Japanese; more on this here. (When I was an innocent child and avid reader of Consumer Reports, I remember pointing this out to my grandfather, who rebuked me utterly. This son of Swedish immigrants would be happy to know, however, that the absolute record seems to have been won handily by a 1966 Volvo P-1800, which ran 3.2 million miles, outliving its owner, Irv Gordon.)
What does this have to do with Bach? When I visited Nakaniida’s “Bach Hall” last year, I asked the hall’s director why they named it “Bach Hall” back in 1980. He looked at me as if I were a moron (or would have, if politeness had not intervened). “Because Bach is the ‘Father of Music,’” he said, then added, “and I suppose the mayor really liked Bach’s music.”
More on “The Father of Music” in another post. (Apparently, Beethoven called Old Bach the “original father of harmony.”) But there’s something vaguely Confucian going on here. In Japan, Bach was early recognized, through the study of Western literature, as a major source of Western classical music. The conclusion was that he ought therefore to be studied and practiced and understood.
There are, of course, aesthetic and spiritual reasons for Bach’s fame, not least of which, according to composer Yamada Kousaku (1886-1965), was the uncanny ability of counterpoint to marry the linear Japanese tradition with Western harmony, not with overwhelming chords, but with subtle, interweaving polyphony, highlighting the beauty of “the line.” (See my article discussing this in Word and World.)
But it is surely also that Bach’s fame breeds more fame, and that love for Bach is simply an extension of Japan’s love for the best of everything, wherever it comes from.
I travelled Europe playing a lot of Bach on pianos I found on the street, or in cafés. I would like nothing more than to do the same in Japan.