It was about a decade ago that Gustav Leonhardt recorded Bach's six English Suites for Philips; they were reissued a few years back as part of a set including Leonhardt's performances of the 'French Suites' but that is no longer available. I have always admired his earlier readings of the English Suites, but these new ones are, I think, greatly to be preferred. An unattractive feature of the older set was the way in which the harpsichord itself was balanced; it was much too close giving an aggressive aspect to Leonardt's playing which really was not there. Compared with his new recording the earlier one is sombre, rather deliberate and superficially only, perhaps, lacking in good humour. In the intervening passage of time he seems to have cultivated a livelier approach to these Suites; they flow more naturally and he has lost some of the apparent stylistic self-consciousness which gave the impression of a certain wooden-ness in his playing.
The English Suites were not published during Bach's lifetime and their date of composition is uncertain; probably they belong to the Cothen period—perhaps before—put, although, considered to be earlier than the 'French Suites', they are, nevertheless, carefully and homogeneously constructed. Their dimensions are ambitious, too, and the loftiness of their intent is evident in each and every one of the opening Preludes, though it is sometimes thought that these may have been written after the remaining movements of the Suites. Leonhardt gives a vigorous account of them with articulation which, if not clearer than that in his earlier recording, is to my ears more natural. Tempos in the new issue are often though not always a shade brisker; I particularly liked his easy-going pace for the Allemandes, though this is, in fact, a characteristic of both sets. Readers in possession of Kenneth Gilbert's warmly regarded recordings of the English Suites on Harmonia Mundi will find his tempos faster still—perhaps a shade too fast for me in the Preludes though the Allemandes and Courantes allow for more in the way of reflection. Gilbert, sparingly and effectively introduces unequal rhythms here and there giving an additional Gallic flavour to the music; Leonhardt does so, too, especially in the Courantes. Where the Sarabandes are concerned Leonhardt brings a shade more grandeur to his approach but slightly at the expense of a mild poignancy which Gilbert conveys without sacrificing nobility. Both players imbue the smaller dance movements with a lively and sophisticated ease of manner.
There are, of course, an almost infinite number of details in which Leonhardt and Gilbert approach the music with different thoughts, providing different solutions; but they are both extremely accomplished performances and a preference for one over the other will be largely a matter of taste. I cannot be more helpful or, perhaps, you may think, less helpful than that but I have listened to both the Leonhardt versions and the Gilbert set many times over and find illuminating things in all them. As I said earlier on, Leonhardt's new album does appeal to me more than the older one but whether, in the end, you derive enjoyment more from one artist or the other will be up to you. Technically speaking both are first rate and, from a musical standpoint, I find both convincing. The new set is very clearly recorded but I marginally prefer the Harmonia Mundi balance. Leonardt plays a mid-eighteenth-century French instrument recently restored by Skowronneck, whilst Gilbert uses a somewhat later French instrument from his own collection. The new release will make a fine addition to anyone's library.'