''It would never sell'', protested the HMV high-ups in the early 1930s when their music staff argued that it was time that Bach's 48, one of the great pillars of the keyboard repertoire, was recorded in its entirety (an earlier venture played by Arnold Dolmetsch had never been completed); though the musicians finally got their way, the records were issued only in a limited Bach Society edition—which was eagerly sought by music-lovers and quickly became famous. The choice of interpreter had fallen on the Swiss pianist and conductor Edwin Fischer, an intellectual musician known for his search for the ''inner experience of art'' and for the beauty of his tone. His indeed remarkable control of tonal nuance is conspicuous everywhere in this historic set, and the lucidity of his part-playing, aware of every strand in Bach's textures, is illuminating. He employs the piano to the full as the instrument it is, taking advantage of contrasting legato and staccato articulation (as in the Book 1 C minor Fugue) and of the use or non-use of the pedals (compare the sec quality of Book 1's C major and minor Preludes with the poetic mist of that of the same book's D minor); he does not hesitate to double octaves in the bass when he thinks it suitable, either to emphasize a subject or when he wants a special effect, as in the B minor Prelude in Book 1.
In today's musical climate his approach is bound to be regarded as too romantic. His treatment of fugues is of the 'hunt the slipper' school, every entry being highlighted, sometimes with excessive weight: useful as this may be in showing students how the wheels go round, not only is it an approach impracticable on the harpsichord, but the composer's aim was surely to absorb fugal entries into the texture as a whole. Fischer likes beginning some movements in an air of hushed mystery, often with the use of the left pedal (in Book 1, the C sharp minor, F minor and B flat minor Preludes; in Book 2, the D sharp minor and G sharp minor Fugues), but—especially in Book 2—he frequently drops the level quite unexpectedly in mid-stream to the velvety pianissimo which was his speciality, so producing a histrionic effect. He can give us the extremes of delicacy (the C sharp major Prelude in Book 1 and the D minor Prelude in Book 2) and of weightiness (Book 2's G minor Prelude) and vigorous energy (Book 1's A minor Prelude). I find most appealing those movements calling for finger dexterity, which are played with great vivacity (the F sharp minor, G major and B flat major Preludes of Book 1, the D minor Prelude of Book 2).
Fischer was nervous in the recording studio, and it has to be said that he made a large number of fluffs (some just a wrong or missed note, others quite serious fumbles) which could not be cleaned up in editing, as such slips are today: the July 1936 sessions were particularly accident-prone. Unlike his Bach concerto recordings (EMI (CD) CDH7 63039-2, 11/89), in which his tempos vacillate wildly, here he mostly holds his speed admirably steady, with just an occasional lapse into hurrying or dragging. Keith Hardwick has done one of his usual splendid transfer jobs from the original 78s but could not totally eradicate some of the old surface scratch and swish (only really troublesome in the B flat Fugue of Book 2) and occasional moments of distortion. Despite the reservations mentioned, this set is well worth hearing for the profound musicality that shines through it all.'