These
sets are the sixth and seventh releases in this ongoing
series (see end of review for links to other reviews).
I
can say immediately that the high standards of performance
have been maintained in these latest issues, as has the
fine quality of Gardiner’s perceptive and fascinating booklet
notes from which, as before, I shall quote in this review.
Volume 21
On
5 March 1964 – can it really be forty-two years
ago? – in the chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, a young
undergraduate conducted a performance of Monteverdi’s 1610 Vespers,
using a choir that he had assembled from fellow students
at the university. The conductor was John Eliot Gardiner.
That night the Monteverdi Choir was born and the rest,
as they say, is history. Thirty-six years later to the
very day, Gardiner, by now Sir John Eliot Gardiner,
brought today’s Monteverdi Choir back, as it were, to their
roots to make a stop on the Bach Cantata Pilgrimage. In
a very nice touch, he invited singers from the four Cambridge
colleges that had furnished the original Monteverdi Choir,
to take part in the Pilgrimage concert. Thus singers from
Clare and Trinity Colleges were on hand to join in the
chorales and to play a particularly important role in the
performance of BWV 159.
The
concert began with two cantatas, BWV 22 and BWV 23, which
were Bach’s audition pieces when he sought the post of
Cantor at St. Thomas’s, Leipzig in 1723. The cantatas were
designed to be performed at the same service, one before
the sermon and one after it. Jesus nahm zu sich die
Zwölfe, BWV 22 begins with an interesting
device: the first movement is a narrative passage featuring
the bass soloist, singing the words of Christ, and the
tenor and the chorus carrying the narration. There follows
a “grief-laden gigue” for alto solo. Claudia Schubert sings
this with disarming directness. The solo oboist - Marcel
Ponseele, I assume – who is to cover himself with glory
later on, in BWV 159, partners her most poetically. I like
Peter Harvey’s way with the succeeding recitative. The
cantata ends with a chorale, which is enlivened by a continuous,
pealing oboe counterpoint, which I found irresistible.
At
the beginning of Du wahrer Gott und Davids Sohn,
BWV 23 a pair of oboes provide a poignant obbligato
against which the soprano and alto soloist sing a spacious
duet. The light, almost boyish timbre of Ruth Holten’s
voice contrasts nicely with the richer tones of Claudia
Schubert. Two choral movements end the cantata. The second
of these, a substantial chorale, seems to have been a last-minute
addition to the work.
BWV
127, which dates from 1725, opens with a big
choral fantasia on the sixteenth-century Lutheran hymn
from which the cantata takes its name,
pitted against the Lutheran Agnus Dei melody, heard in
the orchestra. On this occasion, however, Eliot Gardiner
did something rather unusual. He invited the sopranos
and altos from the two Cambridge college choirs to sing
the Agnus Dei melody while the Monteverdi Choir sang
Bach’s chorus parts. As he describes it: “With undergraduate
sopranos and altos on opposite wings of the centrally
arrayed Monteverdi Choir, the whole movement acquired
the proportions of a choral triptych … It sounded vibrant
and stirring, and gave an inkling of how the St. Matthew
Passion might have sounded in the 1730s.” This is
daringly different but all I can say is that it works
brilliantly for me. Should purists object, the familiar
version, recorded at the pre-concert rehearsal, is included
as an appendix track. At the heart of the cantata lies
the lengthy “sleep aria”, ‘Die Seele ruht in Jesu Händen’ Here,
once again, the accompaniment is extremely sensitive,
with the principal oboe well to the fore, and the plangent
vocal line suits Ruth Holten’s light, pure voice very
well. She gives a disarming, touching performance. By
coincidence, she also is the soloist in this cantata – and
many others – in the complete cycle on Brilliant Classics.
This budget priced series is by no means to be despised
and has given me much pleasure but it is somewhat uneven
and does show some signs of having been put together
swiftly and on a tight budget. I compared the two accounts
of this aria and, frankly, there is no comparison.
On the Brilliant version the accompaniment rather chugs
along, though the solo oboe is good, and, at the faster
pace adopted by conductor Pieter Jan Leusink, Miss Holten
either can’t or doesn’t float her line in the way that
she does for Gardiner. Gardiner takes 8:20 for the aria
against Leusink’s 6:59. The Brilliant performance is
both conscientious and good as far as it goes but Gardiner’s
is the Real Deal, full of imagination and atmosphere.
The contemplative mood is immediately and deliberately
shattered by the juxtaposition of the bass recitative, ‘Wenn
einstens die Posaunen schallen’, in which the soloist
sings of the Last Judgement, thrillingly partnered by
a flashing trumpet part – interestingly the trumpet is
only deployed in this movement. The piece is sung commandingly
by Peter Harvey, who is equally successful in its more
lyrical stretches.
Sehet!
Wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem,
BWV 159 opens with an arioso for the bass,
who sings the words of Jesus, interspersed with recitative
passages for the alto
as the Christian Soul. Here the rich sounds of Claudia
Schubert give much pleasure once again. She sings the
following aria, ‘Ich folge dir nach’ quite beautifully.
The kernel of BWV 159 is the wonderful aria, ‘Es ist
vollbracht’. Amazingly, Bach was inspired to write
an aria that was fully the equal, in terms of profundity
of expression, of the aria that bears the same title
in St. John Passion. On this occasion Eliot
Gardiner took the piece at a daringly slow tempo. This
breadth, plus the concentration and artistry of all
the performers, ensured that, as he says, time seemed
to stand still. These heart-stopping few minutes constitute
an oasis of tranquillity and innigkeit that
make this aria the pinnacle not just of a very fine
performance of the cantata but of the set as a whole.
Peter Harvey’s singing is inspired. He rises to great
heights of expressiveness and the plaintive oboe obbligato
of Marcel Ponseele is also beyond praise. This performance
is a very special experience indeed and must have been
surpassingly moving to hear on the night.
Three
weeks later the Pilgrims were once again in East Anglia,
this time at the fifteenth-century church of Walpole St.
Peter, deep in the rural fenlands of Norfolk. This church
is known as the ‘Queen of the Marshlands’. It is situated
not far from Sandringham, the rural retreat of the English
royal family and HRH The Prince of Wales, the Patron of
the Pilgrimage, was among the audience for this concert.
The programme was something of a mixed bag: because the
Lutheran liturgy largely eschewed music during Lent there
are few pieces by Bach for the season. However, he did
write one cantata for the third Sunday of Lent, ‘Oculi’ Sunday,
and the fact that the Feast of the Annunciation had fallen
the previous day, 25 March, gave an opportunity to include
music for that feast.
Himmelskönig,
sei willkommen BWV 182 is appropriate
for either Palm Sunday or the Annunciation. After the
opening sinfonia comes a delightful chorus in which Jesus
is welcomed to Jerusalem. As Gardiner says, “seldom is
Bach so light-hearted”. It’s beautifully done here. The
cantata has three arias, one each for alto, tenor and
bass. Of these, the central one, for alto, is easily
the most extended. Here the ethereal recorder obbligato
contrasts and yet blends with the gorgeous sound of Nathalie
Stutzmann’s voice. She’s in fine, expressive form, which
augurs well for BWV 54 later in the programme. In this
aria the deliberately spare accompaniment serves to highlight
the grave beauty of the meditative vocal line. James
Gilchrist has a taxing aria to sing with which, predictably,
he copes very well. Bach follows this with a rich, complex
chorale fantasia and then a deliciously light-footed
and exuberant final chorus, in which the soloists join,
which is enhanced by important contributions from the
solo violin and recorder players. As Gardiner comments
in a typically felicitous phrase, this latter movement “needs
the poise of a trapeze artist with the agility of a madrigalian
gymnast – and is altogether captivating.” Needless to
say, his expert performers are equal to all the challenges.
Then
comes the piece for Oculi Sunday, the solo cantata, Widerstehe
doch die Sünde, BWV 54. The solo part
is quite low lying in places and this amply justifies the
use of a female alto rather than a
male singer. I applaud the choice of Nathalie Stutzmann.
The opening aria is substantial and accounts for some two-thirds
of the length of the whole cantata. Miss Stutzmann sings
it with lovely firm tone and invests the music with just
the right amount of feeling. The strings of the English
Baroque Soloists provide splendid support. The shorter
final aria, ‘Wer Sünde tut, der ist vom Teufel’ contains
a demandingly chromatic line for the singer, underpinned
by a driving, fugal string accompaniment. It’s purposefully
performed here.
For
the Annunciation cantata, Wie schön leuchtet der
Morgenstern, BWV 1 Bach adds pairs of horns and
oboes da caccia to the string band and these instruments
contribute a marvellous patina of additional colour in
the joyous opening chorale fantasia on one of the most
renowned of Lutheran hymns. The movement is performed quite
superbly. James Gilchrist is outstanding in the tenor recitative
that follows. Up to now we’ve not heard from soprano Malin
Hartelius but she brings a wonderfully innocent and eager
joy to the aria ‘Erfüllet, ihr himmlischen göttlichen Flammen.’ She
sings this quite delightfully and she’s partnered by an
oboe da caccia. It’s rather unusual to hear this instrument
in partnership with the soprano voice but the effect here
is quite enchanting. Gilchrist, impressive in recitative
earlier on, gives great pleasure in his account of the
florid aria, ‘Unser Mund und Ton der Saiten’. Then the
closing chorale is splendidly festive and affirmative,
with the exuberant horns suitably prominent.
These
must have been two marvellous and uplifting concerts. How
wonderful that they’re preserved on this pair of CDs for
us to enjoy again and again.
Volume 19
The
concerts at Greenwich in mid January 2000 were the first
given in the UK as part of the Pilgrimage. Prior to this
all the venues had been in Germany. Greenwich played host
for a selection of cantatas for the Second Sunday after
Epiphany. Scarcely, it seems, has the great festival of
Christmas passed when the mood of the Lutheran liturgy
once again includes a vein of penitence – though in fact
reminders of man’s sinfulness are present even in Bach’s
cantatas for Christmastide. As Gardiner observes of the
cantatas for this particular Sunday, their texts “inscribe
a path from mourning to consolation.”
Joanne
Lunn is very affecting in the aching recitativo with which
begins Mein Gott, wie lang, ach lange? BWV
155. She represents the penitent Christian soul who
is then encouraged in her faith by the alto and tenor soloists,
who combine in ‘Du must glauben, du must hoffen’ with its
perky bassoon obbligato. Miss Lunn has another aria, ‘Wirf,
mein Herze, wirf dich noch’, in which the soul is enjoined “throw
yourself” into Christ’s loving arms. She obeys this injunction
in her singing and the aria trips along eagerly.
At
the start of Ach Gott, wie manches Herzeleid I,
BWV 3 the mood is once again one of affliction, this
time conveyed by the chorus. There’s a crucial role here
for the oboes d’amore. These help establish the air of
melancholy in the substantial instrumental introduction
and thereafter weave in and out of the choral texture.
It’s a powerful movement and it’s performed arrestingly
here. The bass aria, ‘Empfind ich Höllenangst und Pein’ is “an
uncomfortable, tortuous ride for both cello and singer.” Suffice
to say that both acquit themselves with distinction. Gerald
Finley is very accurate in his divisions, nowhere more
so than in the long, recurring phrase, ‘ein rechter Freudenhimmel
sein’. Throughout this aria he makes good sense of what
can be difficult musical syntax. I love Eliot Gardiner’s
almost throwaway description of the soprano/alto duet, ’Wenn
Sorgen auf mich dringen’. He dubs it “Bach’s equivalent
of Singin’ in the Rain.” What a marvellous comparison – and
how apt! But if you think for a minute that he’s being
flippant read what he has to say about the cruciform symbolism
of the music in this aria, which reminds us that these
are the thoughts, both serious and light-hearted, of someone
who really knows his Bach and has thought long and hard
about the music.
The
tenor aria with which begins Meine Seufzer, meine
Tränen, BWV 13 is eloquently delivered by Julian
Podger. The marvellous combined sonority of an oboe da
caccia and two recorders provides a most effective accompaniment.
But even the invention and emotional range of that aria
is dwarfed by the bass aria, ‘Ächzen und erbärmlich Weinen.’ Gardiner
takes this very broadly – the performance lasts for over
ten minutes – but sustains the musical line excellently.
The accompaniment is founded on an implacably treading
bass line over which we hear a plaintive unison from a
solo violin and the recorders. Against this the bass soloist
projects a deeply melancholic line. Finley sings with great
feeling and inwardness, displaying amazing control and
concentration. His success in putting the music across
so profoundly is all the more remarkable when we read that
he was a late replacement as soloist in this concert. All
concerned give a spellbinding performance of the aria,
which sets the seal on a very fine account of the entire
cantata.
Two
weeks later and the Pilgrims had moved on to Romsey Abbey – presumably
we shall catch up with their concert for the Third Sunday
of Epiphany in due course. Only two cantatas for this Sunday
have come down to us so Gardiner, ever the pragmatist,
took the opportunity in particular to give his choir more
to do by including other music.
Ach wie
flüchtig, ach wie nichtig,
BWV 26 is a 1724 cantata for the Twenty-fourth
Sunday after Trinity. It owes its inclusion in this concert
to the
fact that the incidence of Easter was so late in 2000
that this Sunday would be omitted from the liturgical
calendar. It’s a fine work, which begins with a brilliant
and vigorous choral fantasia. The movement is strongly
projected here, but not excessively so. In the aria that
follows, ‘So schnell ein rauschend Wasser scheisst’,
solo lines for flute, violin and tenor interweave. The
passage of time and the rushing of water are suggestively
illustrated in fluent music. Paul Agnew excels in the
demandingly long stretches of passagework. The cantata
also features a magisterial bass aria, in which the singer
is accompanied by no less than three oboes. Peter Harvey,
reliable as ever, does this very well.
In
the booklet Sir John writes at length and with perception
about Jesus schläft, was soll ich hoffen? BWV
81, which he regards
as having almost an operatic dimension. The intense, melancholy
aria with which it commences is well sung by William Towers.
The next aria, ‘Die schäumenden Wellen von Belials Bächen’,
is a fearsomely demanding storm aria for tenor and strings.
Here Bach whips up a real musical tempest but Paul Agnew
surmounts the considerable technical difficulties. The
bass aria, ‘Schweig, aufgetürmtes Meer!’ is equally challenging.
Christ has to work hard to subdue the waves and the Christ
that Bach portrays here is a commanding figure, not a gentle
Jesus. Peter Harvey excels here and the calming of the
storm paves the way for a confident note, at last, in the
following alto recitative and the concluding chorale. This
is a most exciting and accomplished account of a fine cantata.
The
other cantata for the Sunday is Wär
Gott nicht mit uns diese Zeit,
BWV 14. Particularly noteworthy is the opening chorus
with its complex textures. In this performance an impressive
clarity is achieved. The soprano aria, ‘Unsre Stärke heist
zu schwach’ features a high horn obbligato – rather an
unusual combination. It’s very well done here with a splendid
contribution from the horn player, Gabriele Cassone. Equally
impressive is Peter Harvey in his aria, ‘Gott, bei deinem
starken Schützen’.
The
inclusion of the motet, Jesu,
meine Freude, BWV 227 is no
mere caprice. Not only does this give the choir something
substantial to sing but the text is one of the prescribed
hymns for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. There’s great
variety in the eleven sections of the piece and Bach’s
compositional virtuosity is extremely well served by the
vocal virtuosity of the Monteverdi Choir. The singers show
consistent precision. Their rhythmic acuity and dynamic
range impress at all times as does the sheer verve and
commitment of their singing. I particularly admired the
clarity that they bring to the part writing in the second
section and also the sensitivity of their quiet singing
in the ninth movement, ‘Gute Nacht, o Wesen.’ The motet
is a masterpiece and here it receives a performance that
is fully worthy of the quality of the music.
As
I’m sure is evident from my comments, both these volumes
maintain the very high standards set by previous issues
in this series. The recorded sound is consistently excellent
and, as before, Sir John’s notes are a consistent source
of illumination. Collectors who are acquiring the series
as it unfolds should certainly invest in these issues as
well. Any Bach lover who has yet to experience the Cantata
Pilgrimage should hasten to rectify the omission and either
of these volumes would make an excellent starting point.
This is turning out to be an important and distinguished
series and I recommend these latest issues very strongly.
John Quinn
BUY NOW
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Vol. 21 AmazonUK AmazonUS
Visit the Bach
Cantata Pilgrimage page for links to Musicweb
reviews of releases in this series.
Joanne Lunn
(soprano); Richard Wyn Roberts (alto); Julian Podger (tenor);
Gerald Finley (bass); The Monteverdi Choir;
English Baroque Soloists/Sir John Eliot Gardiner. 
