A Rebellion in 172: How C.P.E. Bach’s Cello Concerto Changed Everything
I still remember the first time I truly listened to Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s Cello Concerto in A major, Wq. 172.
It wasn’t just a piece of music; it was a revelation.
I was in a tiny, cluttered apartment, and a friend had put on a record I’d never heard before.
The needle dropped, and the music exploded into the room.
It wasn’t the staid, perfectly ordered Baroque music I’d expected from the name “Bach.”
This was different.
This was raw, emotional, and unpredictable.
It felt like a person speaking, a person full of fire, joy, and profound sadness all at once.
That day, I fell in love with a composer who was far more than just “J.S. Bach’s second son.”
I discovered a revolutionary voice that bridged two worlds and created something entirely new.
The Cello Concerto in A major, Wq. 172, is a masterpiece of this transitional period, a piece that screams with the passion and drama of the Sturm und Drang movement.
It’s the kind of music that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go until the very last note.
If you’re ready to go on an emotional rollercoaster with me, let’s dive into the story of this incredible piece and the man who wrote it.
Table of Contents
The Man Who Broke the Mold: Who Was Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach?
When you hear the name “Bach,” you probably think of Johann Sebastian Bach, the master of the Baroque.
His music is the epitome of order, logic, and divine harmony.
It’s like a meticulously crafted cathedral, with every arch and window in its perfect place.
But C.P.E. Bach, his second surviving son, was a different breed entirely.
He was the rebellious child, the one who looked at his father’s magnificent structure and thought, “What if we added a little chaos?
What if we made it feel more… human?”
Born in 1714, C.P.E. Bach came of age during a seismic shift in European culture.
The Age of Reason was giving way to the stirrings of Romanticism.
People were no longer content with the rigid structures of the past; they wanted to express individual emotion and personal experience.
C.P.E. was at the forefront of this change, carving out his own legacy that was entirely separate from his famous father’s.
He was known as the “Hamburg Bach” because of his long tenure as the music director in that city, and he was one of the most respected and influential composers of his time.
Even Mozart and Beethoven, two giants of the next generation, studied his work and acknowledged his genius.
Imagine being the son of one of history’s greatest geniuses.
It’s a daunting shadow to live in, right?
But C.P.E. didn’t try to be his father.
He actively forged his own path.
His music is full of surprises, sudden shifts in mood, and daring harmonies.
This style, known as the Empfindsamer Stil (or “sentimental style”), was all about expressing genuine, often turbulent, emotion.
It’s a direct link from the ornate Baroque to the dramatic, passionate works of the Classical and early Romantic periods.
Think of it this way:
J.S. Bach’s music is a powerful and perfect argument, a flawlessly constructed essay on the laws of the universe.
C.P.E. Bach’s music is a passionate, unpredictable conversation with a friend, full of sudden laughter, whispered secrets, and moments of tearful honesty.
It’s a music that breathes and feels.
And nowhere is this more evident than in his concertos, particularly the one we’re here to talk about today.
He wrote three incredible cello concertos, but Wq. 172 stands out for its sheer emotional power and its perfect encapsulation of this rebellious spirit.
It’s a work that screams, “I am not my father, and I have something new to say.”
The Cello Concerto in A Major, Wq. 172: A Three-Act Drama
This concerto isn’t just a collection of notes; it’s a story told in three parts.
It’s a dialogue between the soulful cello and the dynamic orchestra, full of tension, release, and breathtaking beauty.
Let’s break down each of its movements, because each one is a world unto itself.
First Movement: Allegro assai
The very beginning hits you with a jolt.
It’s fast, urgent, and a little wild.
The orchestra bursts in with a confident, driving theme, and you feel the energy immediately.
But when the solo cello enters, it’s not with a grand, heroic statement.
No, it’s more personal, more intimate.
It feels like a person stepping into a crowded room, trying to make their voice heard.
The conversation that follows is incredible.
The cello and the orchestra don’t just echo each other; they argue, they flirt, they challenge one another.
There are moments of high drama, where the cello unleashes a torrent of fast, furious notes.
Then, just as quickly, the mood can shift, and the music becomes more tender and reflective.
C.P.E. Bach was a master of the surprise effect, the emotional jolt.
He knew exactly how to keep the listener on their toes.
It’s like listening to a great storyteller who uses every tool in their arsenal to keep you captivated.
The cello line itself is a virtuosic marvel.
It’s full of twists and turns, requiring incredible skill and sensitivity from the soloist.
It’s not just about speed and precision, though; it’s about conveying the raw emotion behind every phrase.
The movement feels like a whirlwind of feelings—excitement, anxiety, joy, and perhaps a touch of defiance.
It’s a powerful statement right out of the gate, announcing that this is not your grandfather’s music.
It’s something new, alive, and breathing.
Second Movement: Largo ma non tanto
After the fiery first movement, this one is a welcome moment of quiet introspection.
It’s a slow, soulful melody that feels like a deep, personal confession.
The cello sings with a beautiful, mournful tone over a hushed orchestra.
The phrase “Largo ma non tanto” means “slow, but not too slow,” and it perfectly captures the feeling of the movement.
It’s sad, but it isn’t dragging.
There’s a gentle, flowing quality to it, like a river of melancholy.
As a listener, you feel every single note.
The music has a way of getting inside you, of touching something deep and universal.
It’s the kind of music you put on when you need to sit with your feelings for a while.
The genius of C.P.E. Bach here is in the simplicity and directness of the emotion.
There are no complex fugues or elaborate counterpoint from his father’s time.
Instead, he uses a simple, elegant melody to convey a profound sense of yearning and quiet sorrow.
It’s a movement that proves that true emotional power doesn’t always come from bombast; sometimes it comes from the quietest, most vulnerable whisper.
It’s a moment of calm before the storm, a chance to catch your breath and prepare for what’s to come.
Third Movement: Allegro assai
And here it is: the grand finale.
The energy that opened the concerto returns with a vengeance.
This final movement is an absolute blast of pure, unbridled joy.
It’s full of fast, galloping rhythms and a sense of triumphant celebration.
The cello gets to show off its incredible speed and agility, dancing through a dazzling array of notes.
The orchestra is right there with it, providing a powerful, driving backdrop.
There are moments where the music feels like a chase, a playful race to the finish line.
It’s full of that same “Storm and Stress” energy from the first movement, but here, it feels like it’s being channeled into something incredibly positive and exhilarating.
This is music that makes you want to get up and move, to feel the pure kinetic energy of it all.
It’s the perfect way to conclude the story.
After the drama and the sadness, we end on a note of pure, soaring happiness.
It leaves you with a feeling of exhilaration and a sense that you’ve been on a real journey.
This is what makes the Cello Concerto in A major so special.
It takes you through a full range of human emotions in just three movements.
It’s a concise but powerful statement of a new musical era, a rebellion that you can’t help but be a part of.
Beyond the Notes: The Historical Context of a Rebellion
To truly appreciate this concerto, you have to understand the world it was born into.
Think of the mid-18th century as a teenager going through a growth spurt.
It’s an awkward, exciting, and sometimes confusing time.
The old Baroque rules—the powdered wigs and strict court etiquette—were starting to feel a bit stuffy.
People were reading books by philosophers like Rousseau, who talked about the importance of individual feeling and a connection to nature.
This newfound emphasis on personal emotion found its way into the arts, and music was no exception.
This is where the Sturm und Drang (Storm and Stress) movement comes in.
It was a precursor to Romanticism, a period in German literature and music that valued emotional extremes and subjective experience.
It was all about passion, rebellion, and a little bit of drama.
C.P.E. Bach was one of the key figures in this movement.
He didn’t just write music; he wrote music that felt.
His compositions are filled with sudden dynamic changes, unexpected pauses, and abrupt shifts in harmony.
These weren’t mistakes; they were intentional choices to represent the unpredictable nature of human emotion.
The Cello Concerto in A major, Wq. 172, is a perfect case study of this.
It’s a piece that refuses to be neatly categorized.
It has elements of the Baroque—the structured ritornellos and the solo-versus-orchestra format—but it’s infused with a spirit that is entirely new.
It’s that tension between the old and the new that makes it so fascinating.
C.P.E. Bach wasn’t just imitating his father’s greatness; he was using his father’s language to say something completely different.
He was a bridge, a connector between the old and the new, and this concerto is one of the strongest planks on that bridge.
It’s a crucial stepping stone to the music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, and you can hear its influence in their works.
In fact, Beethoven’s early piano sonatas, with their sudden mood swings and dramatic flair, owe a great debt to the innovations of C.P.E. Bach.
He taught the world that music could be more than just pretty sounds or intellectual exercises.
It could be a direct line to the human heart.
Why Wq. 172 Still Resonates Today
So, why should we care about a concerto written in 172, a piece that’s nearly 300 years old?
Because the emotions it expresses are timeless.
We’ve all felt that surge of excitement and energy.
We’ve all known that quiet, contemplative sadness.
And we’ve all experienced that feeling of triumphant joy.
This concerto speaks to the universal human experience.
In a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming, this music offers a kind of beautiful, organized chaos.
It reminds us that it’s okay for our feelings to be a little messy and unpredictable.
It’s a piece that says, “Embrace the storms within you, because they can lead to something beautiful.”
For me, listening to it is a form of meditation.
It forces me to pay attention to every twist and turn, every subtle shift in mood.
It’s an active listening experience, not just passive background noise.
And that’s exactly what C.P.E. Bach intended.
He wanted his music to move you, to stir something deep inside your soul.
He didn’t write for the polite ears of the court; he wrote for the passionate hearts of the people.
This is music that feels incredibly modern and relevant, despite its age.
It’s proof that a true masterpiece transcends time and place.
An Infographic on C.P.E. Bach’s Life and Legacy
A Rebel’s Legacy: C.P.E. Bach’s Life in Numbers
Birth Year
Born in Weimar, Germany. Second surviving son of J.S. Bach.
Court Musician
Served as court composer for Frederick the Great in Prussia, a period where he wrote much of his keyboard music.
The Cello Concerto
Composed his three cello concertos, including Wq. 172, a shining example of the Sturm und Drang style.
Total Works
Wrote over 1000 pieces, showing incredible prolificacy and range, from symphonies to solo keyboard works.
His influence on later composers like Haydn and Beethoven secured his place as a vital link between the Baroque and Classical eras.
How to Listen to This Masterpiece
If you’re new to this piece, here are a few tips to get the most out of your listening experience.
First, find a good recording.
There are many wonderful recordings available, but I highly recommend one that captures the raw energy and emotion of the music.
Look for a performance by someone who truly understands the Sturm und Drang spirit.
Second, listen actively.
This isn’t music to put on in the background while you’re doing chores.
Give it your full attention, and let the music take you on a journey.
Pay attention to the sudden changes in tempo and dynamics, the way the cello seems to be having a conversation with the orchestra.
You can read more about the historical context and other great works by C.P.E. Bach on reputable music sites.
For more on C.P.E. Bach’s life and a list of his complete works, you can check out the fantastic resource on the AllMusic website.
To hear more about the specific history of his cello concertos, and to explore the other two, you can find a lot of great information on a site like Gramophone’s article about them.
And for a deeper dive into the Sturm und Drang movement itself, a great place to start is the detailed entry on Britannica’s website.
These sites are excellent starting points for anyone who wants to learn more about the world that created this stunning music.
Final Thoughts and Finding Your Own Musical Rebellion
Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s Cello Concerto in A major, Wq. 172, is more than just a piece of classical music.
It’s a statement of individuality, a bold step away from the past and into an emotionally charged future.
It’s a testament to the fact that true genius lies not in imitation, but in innovation.
The next time you’re feeling a little rebellious, or a little overwhelmed by life, I invite you to put on this concerto.
Let the music wash over you, and feel the storm and stress, the sadness and the joy, all in one glorious, 20-minute journey.
You might just find a kindred spirit in the rebel son of a legend, and discover a new soundtrack for your own life’s adventures.
Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, Cello Concerto, Wq. 172, Sturm und Drang, Classical music