Six Evolutions — Bach: Cello Suites

A Gift to Himself, Sixty Years in the Making

At age four, Yo-Yo Ma learned eight notes.

Not a symphony. Not a concerto. Eight notes from the Prélude of Bach’s first cello suite. From those eight notes, he walked a journey of sixty years.

The Third and Final Recording

In 2018, at sixty-two, Yo-Yo Ma walked into a recording studio to record Bach’s complete cello suites for the third and final time.

The first was in 1983, at twenty-seven — young and ambitious. The second in 1997, at forty-two — a period of transition. The third, at sixty-two — he calls it his last.

I don’t usually believe musicians when they say “last time.” It’s often just a setup for the next comeback. But listen to the Sarabande of Suite No. 5 on this recording, and you’ll understand why he said it.

The G Major Prélude, Like I Remembered It

I’ve heard countless versions of the Prélude from Suite No. 1. Casals’ raw intensity. Starker’s architectural precision. Rostropovich’s deep emotional sweep.

But Ma’s version is different. His cello doesn’t sound like it’s being played — it sounds like it’s remembering itself. The tempo is unhurried, with enough space between each note for you to breathe. It doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels like a man talking to himself.

The Sarabande, a Dance for One

If you don’t have time for all six suites — though you absolutely should — at least listen to the Sarabande from Suite No. 5 in C minor.

It is the slowest of slow movements. Just the cello, alone, without harmony, without accompaniment, barely any double stops. A single melodic line, walking a tightrope through the troubled key of C minor.

Every time I hear this Sarabande, I think of Yo-Yo Ma’s 2020 concert in Taipei.

Most concert halls around the world were still dark that November. Ma flew from New York to Taipei, quarantined for seven days, walked onto the stage of Taipei Music Center. Four thousand masked people sat in the dark — some crying, some laughing, some just letting the tears soak their masks in silence.

He played Suites Nos. 1, 5, and 6 in full. He also played Zhao Jiping’s “Summer in the High Grassland” and George Crumb’s cello sonata. But what I remember most is the Sarabande from Suite No. 5 — because nobody coughed, nobody rustled their program, nobody moved. A thousand people held their breath together in the dark.

Bach Is Not Meant to Be Understood

Ma once said something I’ve never forgotten: “You can never understand Bach the same way twice, because you are never the same person.”

That is what makes this recording so moving. It doesn’t just capture how a sixty-two-year-old man plays Bach. It captures how each listener, at different stages of their life, hears Bach.

I didn’t understand this at four. I doubt Ma did either, at four. But sixty years teaches you a few things. Or rather, Bach teaches you a few things.

This CD is spinning in my player right now. The Gigue from Suite No. 6 is about to begin — D major, bright, joyful, like sunlight sneaking through the gap in the curtains. I press repeat and listen again.

Comparative Versions

For those wishing to explore different interpretations of Bach’s cello suites: Casals (EMI / Naxos, 1936–1939) offers the historic, pioneering recording; Starker (RCA / Mercury, 1990–1992) delivers structural clarity; Rostropovich (EMI, 1995) provides emotional intensity. Ma’s own 1983 recording, reissued as “The 1983 Sessions,” reveals a very different, more energetic approach from his youth.