Passacaglia — this piece has two authors, a hundred and seventy years apart. In 1720 Handel published a set of harpsichord suites, and the last movement of the seventh is a passacaglia: one bass pattern repeated throughout, with a new figuration over it each time round. In 1893 the Norwegian composer Johan Halvorsen recast that movement as a duo for violin and viola, and his version became far better known than the original. This is the piano solo arrangement of it — seventy-four bars, two minutes twenty. The full piano score is on screen, note by note.
Handel wrote the bass; Halvorsen made it famous
In 1720 Handel published a set of eight harpsichord suites in London at his own expense. He explained in the preface that unauthorised copies were already circulating, so he had to issue a correct text himself. The last movement of the seventh suite is this passacaglia.
A passacaglia is a way of writing, not the name of a piece. The rule is simple: a bass pattern, usually four or eight bars, repeats from beginning to end while the texture above changes with each turn. Making something happen inside a completely fixed frame is one of the sterner Baroque tests.
A hundred and seventy-three years later the piece was found again. In 1893 the Norwegian composer and violinist Johan Halvorsen recast it as a duo for violin and viola, the two instruments trading challenges over the same bass. That version became a staple of the string repertoire, and the "Handel Passacaglia" most people know today is really Halvorsen's.
This is the piano solo arrangement of that version, moved to A minor from the original G minor — the transposition is the arranger's choice, putting both hands where they lie comfortably.
The bottom never changes; each turn adds a layer above it
The first eight notes lay the foundation: a descending bass pattern, four bars to a turn. For the next two minutes that bass never stops.
What sits above it changes with every turn. The first is plain chords; the second starts adding movement; then come broken figures, continuous fast notes, answers across the octaves. You do not notice it becoming more complex, only that the sound keeps filling up — that is what a passacaglia does.
In the middle the range opens upward, the top pushed near B6, and the sound turns bright and tight. The texture keeps thickening until, in the last turns, both hands are fully loaded.
The final two bars cut it back to a handful of notes, settling onto the bass pattern it began with.
This is not quiet background music — it applies pressure continuously, and by the end you will feel pushed along. Put it on when you need to press forward.
Seventy-four bars, one bass pattern for eighteen turns
Seventy-four bars and one thousand and thirty sounding notes, in 4/4 and A minor, with no repeats — and no rests at all. From the first note to the last, the sound never stops.
The bar-by-bar counts show the pattern plainly: the piece alternates regularly between thirteen and sixteen notes a bar, in groups of four. That alternation is the cycle of the repeating bass — four bars to a turn, and a little over eighteen turns across seventy-four bars.
The range runs from C2 to C7, five octaves, and the shortest note lasts 0.230 seconds, so it is easy to follow; the difficulty is density, not speed.
The page carries no dynamics or hairpins, so the whole cumulative build is left to the texture: more notes packed in, the range opening wider, and the sound thickens with them. That is how a passacaglia works in the first place.
The difficulty is giving eighteen turns eighteen characters
First, the bass. It is the one thing that does not change and the listener's only reference; the first bass note of every turn must land clearly and not be buried by the texture above.
Second, layering. The upper writing thickens turn by turn, and playing every turn at the same weight destroys the cumulative effect. With no dynamics in the source, all of that is yours to plan — keep the first four or five turns restrained and save the room for later.
Third, the joins. A turn changes every four bars, and that moment must not feel like a stop; the last note of one turn and the first of the next should connect as if there were no seam.
Fourth, the tempo. This takes the printed 130 to the quarter, which is on the quick side; string versions are usually slower and broader, and the piano version moves a little faster to hold the line continuous.
We rate this 4 out of 5.
Other pieces built on a fixed bass
The four Canon arrangements on this channel work from the same idea — Pachelbel also repeats one bass throughout and adds layers above it, only slower and gentler. Heard together, they show how differently the same procedure can behave.
This is Handel's first appearance here; more of his keyboard music will follow.
