Kirkpatrick’s name is so closely associated with his classic book on Scarlatti and his recordings of Bach that it pulls one up short to be reminded that, long before that, he was recording while in his mid-twenties, well before the Second World War – not much later than Landowska, with whom he had studied. (He also studied with Nadia Boulanger, Gunther Ramin and Arnold Dolmetsch, though he did not pull his punches whenever he disagreed with them.) Determined to base his interpretations on early treatises rather than information distilled through later hands, however respected, he set his face against personalized readings and sought to reproduce, “as closely as possible, what could be ascertained of the intentions of the composers”. His commendable efforts in the earliest (1936) recordings here, of Bach, were spoilt by duff engineers who played ducks and drakes with levels (starting each side much too feebly and then increasing the volume – the ostinato pattern in the Italian Concerto’s slow movement is all but inaudible at times) and by variations in pitch (which drops at the G major Partita’s Minuet). Thereafter things are infinitely better, with sound recording that is mostly quite acceptable. Gibbons’s Queen’s command is sparkling, and Morley’s variations on Go from my window are altogether delightful.
It was probably the tinny quality of the Dolmetsch harpsichord (heard at its worst in Purcell’s G major Almand) which led him to make so many (and sometimes eccentric) registration changes; but at the time, and for some two decades afterwards, the prevalence of harpsichords fitted with pedals encouraged this ‘orchestrated’ approach. The tonal inadequacies of the instrument make themselves conspicuous in a group of Couperin pieces, in which, however, Kirkpatrick’s clean ornaments and overall stylishness command respect, though in “Les baricades misterieuses” the sound suddenly goes very woolly. With a better instrument, his pieces from Rameau’s E minor Suite could have been a highlight, even if the tonal build-up and final diminuendo applied to the “Tambourin” sound anachronistic to modern-day ears. He shows a fine sense of dramatic declamation in Bach’s Chromatic Fantasia and a strong rhythmic drive in the fugue (though the many abrupt registration changes are upsetting). The scintillating Scarlatti sonatas are hugely enjoyable and bear witness to Kirkpatrick’s virtuosity.'