Bach's St Matthew Passion has often been called the 
          greatest western musical work ever written. Don't expect this reviewer 
          to disagree - it never fails to move me, and to delight me by its beautiful 
          and often painful melodies. First performed on Good Friday 1727, it 
          is Bach's most complex vocal work, calling for two choirs and two orchestras, 
          and containing some of his most demanding arias. Performed often, since 
          Felix Mendelssohn "rediscovered" it in 1829 (performing a partial version 
          of the work), the St Matthew Passion was largely responsible for the 
          Bach revival of the 19th century. The work itself follows the text of 
          the Passion according to St Matthew, in a series of choral movements, 
          arias and recitatives. This is a long work - usually running around 
          2.30 to 3 hours, depending on the tempi chosen, which can be very tiring 
          to perform, especially for the soloists, who are up against some difficult 
          challenges in the arias. 
        
The market is full of great recordings of the St Matthew 
          Passion, from classics by Richter and Leonhardt, to more recent recordings, 
          such as the second version recently released by both Herreweghe and 
          Harnoncourt, as well as the recording by Suzuki, but filmed versions 
          are few. This DVD shows the work being performed in the beautiful King’s 
          College Chapel. 
        
Evangelist Rogers Covey-Crump is not totally convincing 
          - it is difficult to measure up to the benchmark of the magnificent 
          Peter Schreier, who is undoubtedly the perfect voice for the part (or, 
          at least, whose voice has become more or less identified with it). His 
          diction sounds a bit unsteady, and his voice seems just a bit too laid 
          back for this central part. Alto Michael Chance has a fine voice, but 
          uses a bit too much vibrato at times, which tends to distract from the 
          melody, calling attention to itself. Yet his vibrato is unequal - at 
          times it is intrusive and other times (even within the same aria) it 
          is subtle. 
        
Curiously, Emma Kirkby, who does not often overuse 
          vibrato, does so here. Her voice is wonderful, as usual, but one may 
          question this vibrato that tends to stand out. However, in the heart-rending 
          aria Erbame dich for soprano and violin obbligato, she is more 
          restrained, and is truly magnificent. Yet it is hard to compare her 
          version to the near-perfect performance by René Jacobs on the 
          Gustav Leonhardt recording of 1989, or Robin Blaze's crystalline performance 
          on the Maasaki Suzuki recording. (Or even alto Michael Chance, present 
          on this recording, who was acclaimed for his performance of this aria 
          in the recent recording by John Eliot Gardiner.) 
        
Regarding the sound of the recording some comments 
          must be made. The soloists are spread out across the space, which can 
          be a bit disconcerting, especially when camera angles change. There 
          is also something wrong with the balance. One hears the choir spread 
          out across the soundscape at times, but the orchestra is leaning to 
          the right, as is the choir at certain times. (This could be a problem 
          with my listening to it in Dolby 2.0 format; Dolby 5.1 is also available, 
          but I do not have the equipment to reproduce that type of sound. When 
          choosing the 5.1 setting on my equipment, nothing changes.) There is 
          also a very clear hiss at the beginning of each section, which is a 
          bit annoying. 
        
Unlike the CD recording of this work, the DVD suffers 
          from sound problems that make it unacceptable. The unbalanced sound 
          of the orchestra and choir is far too distracting for this to be enjoyable. 
          
            
            
          Kirk McElhearn