Bach Trios: When Cello, Mandolin & Bass Reimagine Classic Counterpoint

A vinyl voyage through Bach’s keyboard originals, reborn on double LP by Yo‑Yo Ma, Chris Thile & Edgar Meyer

Ever wondered how Bach’s keyboard gems sound when handed over to a cello, mandolin, and bass? That’s the deal with Bach Trios, a 2017 double-LP that teams up Yo‑Yo Ma, Chris Thile, and Edgar Meyer. Pressed on heavyweight vinyl, it blends Baroque precision with fresh-grass looseness—never stuck in concert-hall formality.

What Makes This Collaboration Sing

These three musicians take keyboard pieces originally for harpsichord or organ and recreate them so each voice gets room to breathe without stepping on each other’s toes. With Grammy cred behind them, they treat Bach less like a dusty artifact and more as old friends exchanging ideas live. This is an analog-centric release—no digital download hiding inside the sleeve.

Packaging keeps things simple: a clean white sleeve embossed with their names, opening gatefold style. Fancy essays or in-depth notes? Nope. Just track timings and credits. If you want scholarly context, you’ll have to look elsewhere.

Inside, you find two sturdy 12-inch 180-gram LPs. Poly-lined inner sleeves ease the records out, though that smooth surface might cling a bit at first. No download card here—grab the digital version separately if you want to listen on the go.

Performance & Production Notes

The album kicks off with the Trio Sonata No. 6, where the mandolin zips up top like a jazz soloist riffing in a smoky club, while bass and cello hold down the groove and add color. The sound balances clarity with warmth:

• Yo‑Yo Ma’s cello anchors the mix, neither muddy nor thin, with a tone that’s firm and melodic.
• The mandolin can edge toward harshness if your amp cranks treble; dialing back highs or swapping tubes can fix that.
• Bass lines stay clear, but systems heavy on low end might find the groove blurs a bit without some EQ adjustment.

Throughout, the intricate Bach fugues unfold with voices bouncing naturally between instruments. Nobody hogs the spotlight, and the trio’s interplay feels like three personalities in genuine conversation.

The opening Sonata flows smoothly, though the Largo movement drags if your turntable isn’t perfectly level—wobbly platters can mess with pitch here. The Prelude and Fugue from The Well-Tempered Clavier snap crisply into focus, yet misaligned cartridges reveal surface noise in quieter moments.

Mandolin textures in the chorales recall clavichord timbres, but budget cartridges might render their attack harsh. The upbeat Passepied is a toe-tapper, although the mandolin’s sharp percussive edge will reveal a dirty stylus or worn vinyl faster than most.

The album closes with the Viola da Gamba Sonata, shifting the mood to a nearly ten-minute, sonorous dialogue. Happily immersive, but beware—some pressings bring faint rumble at the tail end.

Caveats to Consider

This pressing isn’t without quirks. Minor warping shows up in some copies—spot any visible waves, and swap it out pronto. The minimalist packaging leaves you hanging if you want liner notes or album art to sink your teeth into. And that mandolin brightness? It can grate on setups without good treble control. Lastly, if it ships loose in bubble wrap, don’t be shocked if the sleeve corners show dings.

Who’s Going to Rock This—and Who Should Swipe Left

This is a solid pick if your vinyl rig lives in a room with decent acoustic treatment and you enjoy analog’s little quirks. If you want a fresh take on Bach—not the grand cathedral organ experience but more like three voices in real time jamming—it’s right up your alley. Also, if you value virtuosity and improvisational spirit over strict historical reenactment, this will feel like a breath of fresh air.

Skip it if you’re hunting detailed liner notes or period-specific deep dives, or if your sound system can’t handle sharp treble—mandolin edges can turn grating. Budget-wise, digital or CD versions run cheaper and sometimes throw in bonus tracks.

Final Spin Thoughts

The double-LP captures Bach’s dense counterpoint through the lens of three masters who bend tradition but keep its essence intact. The vinyl offers warmth and that signature bit of crackle, making it feel like you’ve stumbled into an intimate jam session rather than a rigid recital. If packaging minimalism isn’t your thing, that might grate, but if you’re after pure music, it sidesteps distractions nicely.

Expect some surface noise, the mandolin’s shrill moments on certain systems, and the occasional pressing hiccup. None are outright dealbreakers, but they matter if you’re stickler for press quality. For fans who prize clear tone, tight interaction, and a fresh perspective on Bach’s work—and who are willing to invest in heavyweight wax—Bach Trios serves up a listening experience that lingers way past the usual late-night vinyl sessions.