110: Brandenburg V
Today we come to the fifth of the set, and in a lot of ways, this is the one that feels the most “forward-looking.” It’s still very much a Baroque concerto grosso, but at the same time, there are moments where you can almost hear the future of the keyboard concerto trying to break through. The instrumentation alone tells you something is different: instead of a more typical solo group, we get flute, violin, and—most unusually for the time—harpsichord stepping out of its usual continuo role and into the spotlight.
The first movement is, structurally, in ritornello form like so many we’ve already discussed: a central idea that keeps coming back, grounding the movement while the soloists branch off into their own material. But very quickly, something starts to feel different. The harpsichord isn’t just accompanying—it’s participating, trading lines with the flute and violin, and gradually taking on more and more importance. And then we get to the moment: the cadenza.
Now, cadenzas weren’t unheard of, but nothing like this. The entire ensemble drops out, and the harpsichord is left alone for what feels like an eternity (and relative to the rest of the movement, it basically is). What Bach does here is extraordinary—not just in terms of sheer virtuosity, but in how tightly it’s put together. This isn’t random improvisation; it’s built out of the same ideas we’ve already heard, pushed further and further until they reach a kind of breaking point, and then, somehow, it all resolves back into the orchestra as if nothing unusual had happened. If you listen for one thing in this concerto, make it this cadenza—it’s one of those moments where you can really hear music history shifting.
The second movement moves into a much more intimate space. The full ensemble drops out entirely, leaving just the three soloists. In effect, this becomes a trio sonata: transparent texture, constant interplay, and a real sense of balance between the parts. No one instrument dominates for long, and interestingly, the harpsichord settles back into something closer to its traditional role—though even here, it has more independence than you’d normally expect. After the scale and intensity of the first movement, this feels almost like a quiet conversation.
Then, in the third movement, we’re back to something much more energetic. It’s heavily imitative, almost fugal in character, and driven forward by a relentless rhythmic pulse. The harpsichord is now fully integrated into the texture, but after that first movement, you can’t quite hear it as just accompaniment anymore. The lines overlap, echo, and interlock in that unmistakable Bach way, and the whole movement feels like it’s constantly in motion.
Taken as a whole, Brandenburg V stands out not just within the set, but within Bach’s output more broadly. It experiments with form and instrumental roles in a way that still feels completely natural. More than any of the others, it feels like a bridge—between the concerto grosso tradition and the solo keyboard concerto that would come later.
Here are some great recordings:
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