BWV 5 - Wo soll ich fliehen hin

Week 5 (29 January - 3 February 2013)

Recording: Helmuth Rilling, Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart, and Bach-Collegium Stuttgart; Arleen Auger, soprano; Carolyn Watkinson, alto; Aldo Baldin, tenor; Wolfgang Schöne, bass

So I thought I had an easy week in front of me, since BWV 5 has no soprano or alto aria – only a recitative for each soloist. The opening chorus looked simple compared to last week’s Christ lag in Todesbanden, and the final chorales are always easy reading (although not perhaps easy singing if you have to actually perform them!). Only one recitative for the alto: just one page of music, sixteen measures – time to coast! Hold that thought…

This cantata contains some of the most powerful text encountered so far in this project. The “unknown poet” worked overtime, producing elaborate language with evocative imagery of wounds and blood as the mechanisms for absolving sins. This significant departure from the less complex, more general verses used by Heerman enables Bach to create a transformational journey from acknowledgment of personal sin to seeking and finding redemption through the miracle of the cross. The journey begins with the opening coro, which is A-B-A form with the choral parts as the B section. I can’t put it better than to quote Hubert Parry, who describes the movement as “notable for the profusion with which the phrases of the chorale are introduced”.

Wo soll ich fliehen is exactly what the tenor soloist must have been thinking when the music for his aria was handed to him. The solo part doesn’t even look like vocal music at first glance, with its frequent unbroken sequences of continuous sixteenth notes. On top of this, the obbligato solo is given to…the viola. I won’t make any viola jokes as it takes a world-class violist to play this part. But neither singer nor fiddler has any wiggle room: once the movement is set in motion, they both just have to steadily crank out the notes or the aria falls to pieces. Did Bach hate tenors, did he intend to show them who was boss, or did he have a stellar tenor that could sing anything put in front of him? Perhaps in 18^th century Leipzig, having made his reputation and conceivably able to attract the best and brightest church musicians, Bach had found that star. Perhaps he had found someone of the equal of Aldo Baldin.

Aldo who? You may very well ask. How does a Brazilian boy of Italian ancestry studying the cello in the backwaters of South America end up in Germany singing Bach? Apparently Karl Richter had something to do with that, hearing the voice and arranging for Baldin to study in Berlin. What a delight to discover this singer, but sadness, too, as he passed in 1994 at only forty-nine, still in the prime of a singing career which he balanced with academic positions teaching the next generation. Fortunately, he recorded many cantatas with Rilling, and I’m fairly sure his name will appear again over the course of this project.

Baldin is fully in command of this aria – it’s one thing to just be able to get through it, a completely different level to be master over it, especially at the unforgiving tempo Rilling imposes to make this piece come alive. A great example of this is the series of ascending 16^th-note passages beginning M. 77, which Baldin sings full voice to arrive triumphantly at the second syllable of wäschet on M. 81. Peter Schreier (for Richter) comes close, and is note perfect at a somewhat reduced tempo, but sounds the slightest bit strained as if he would have preferred it down a half-step. To use the hackneyed phrase, this aria is definitely a place to go for baroque – pitch, that is – if you can. Talk about being “washed in the blood” – that’s what this is all about. Those rapidly flowing sixteenths in the voice and viola tumble over each other to depict the cleansing nouns, adjectives, and verbs: Quelle, Strömen, blutigen, and above all, wäschet.

Don’t try this one unless your voice is happy in the high F-Ab range and you enjoy beating your head against the wall. Seriously, it is a challenging study piece, but probably not practical for a recital or church solo. It belongs in the context of the cantata, with the viola and continuo.

Now the bass aria is a different story. It’s a brilliant showpiece, where Bach has thoughtfully given the soloist plenty of time to recuperate after each short passage of challenging but not impossible pyrotechnics. It could potentially be performed as a standalone piece, say for a graduate recital, but it needs the sparkling orchestration, including the obbligato trumpet (which is intended to be a tromba da tirarsi, a slide trumpet). This aria has fared well on recordings. Not only Schöne and Fischer-Dieskau (Richter), but Peter Harvey for John Eliot Gardiner is outstanding as well. You can sense they are all having a good time with this music. I’m very jealous of this one, but the words would never have been given to the alto! The multiple repetitions (I counted 38) of verstumme need the inherent authority of the basso voice.

So back to the recitatives. Some sources indicate that Bach handed off the composition of recitatives to his assistants, for training purposes and for expediency. Not sure that was the case here. The alto has what one source refers to as the “turning point” of this piece. The composition is symmetrical around this recitative, and the substantial, pivotal words move the arc of the cantata forward. This really requires immersing yourself in the text, and there are moments where the words take down the barrier between singer and individual, and you have no option but to experience and communicate them on a personal level.

The text would have been enough – but laid on top of it is the plaintive sound of the oboe, declaiming in unadorned phrases the chorale verse that mirrors the unknown poet’s words. As soloist, you have to mesh with the obbligato through various means, including emulating the quality of the oboe’s sound and vibrato, as well as observing the rests exactly as notated so that the instrumentalist can be heard. I’m guessing the male alto and baroque oboe that originally performed this were somewhat closer matched in timbre than a modern-day female alto and oboe. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try. This recitative requires substantial effort both on the solo part as well as the ensemble with the oboe, and there is a world of musicianship to be learned in these sixteen measures. It’s just amazing.

The soprano secco recitative is short, but she gets the best line in the whole cantata, courtesy of the unbekannter Dichter. Arleen Auger, one of the greats, wonderfully inflects the text here – not too much, just the right amount:

Ich bin ja nur das kleinste Teil der Welt

I am indeed only the smallest part of the world

That is, we are all insignificant before the ideas of redemption, purification, and perfection: we can only try not to waste our opportunity to achieve those ideas. The almost incomprehensible truth is that Bach, before whom some of us also feel insignificant, set that text believing it applied equally to him.

BWV 4 - Christ lag in Todesbanden

Week 4 (22 January - 27 January 2013)

Recording: Fritz Lehmann, Chor der Staatlichen Hochschule für Musik (Frankfurt am Main), Orchester des Bachfestes 1950; Helmut Krebs, tenor; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone

This week brings the first well-known church cantata, one which reportedly pre-dates the first three BWV numbers by at least fifteen years, and is significantly different in structure and complexity from those Leipzig cantatas. Reputedly written for “job application” purposes, the cantata concentrates on choral treatments of the Luther chorale, with two substantial choral movements (and of course the concluding chorale). Additionally, several other movements are sometimes assigned to the chorus rather than to soloists.

Despite the greatness of its composition, I had difficulty connecting emotionally with this work. It is undeniably magnificent – but magnificently stern and austere. I admit I was glad to find Hubert Parry’s comment that it is “severe in style” indicating that there wasn’t necessarily something wrong with my perception.

But it is most definitely engaging on an intellectual level. The deeper I went the more intimidating it was to confront the genius behind this work. With my meager theoretical background, I cannot attempt anything more than rudimentary analysis, but one thing that has already struck me is that Bach was not a random cantata generator. Did he approach composition somewhat formulaically? Undoubtedly – not only did he work in a highly disciplined and methodical manner, he also had deadlines to meet. The scary thing is that it took (200) years after his death before mankind produced a comparable capability and even then – while I’ve heard there are computer programs which can churn out a synthetic “Bach” composition – the missing element is the endless inventiveness: his uncanny ability to throw in the unexpected modulation, to change it up just when you thought you knew where he was going. To my knowledge the computer can’t do that yet. And never will.

The mono recording quality of Lehmann’s version, which especially suffers in the higher-frequency range, made it difficult to listen to this performance repeatedly for purposes of study, so I looked up the 1968 Richter version, also with Fischer-Dieskau. Two different approaches, but I have to assume that both conductors based their interpretations not only on access to some of the same source material as the Bach Gesellschaft, but also on long experience with the various Bach performing traditions in Germany. Lehmann was one of the early proponents of “period performance”; by the time Richter’s recording was made he surely was aware of that school of thought, although he didn’t choose to emulate it.

A word about Fritz Lehmann, a fine German conductor of the post-war period, who was taken too early, collapsing at the age of fifty-one during the intermission of a St. Matthew Passion performance he was conducting. One of the greatest Brahms’ Requiem recordings is under his baton, but there are regrettably few of his performances preserved. In the recording here, he attempts great things with less-than-great forces (save for his soloists) but his skill is apparent, as is his commitment to re-establishing historical performance practices (a good example is the elimination of fermatas in the final chorale which then flows very naturally using only elegant lifts). His mature insights into the Bach and Handel repertoire would have been invaluable, bridging the divide between the pre- and post-war German performing tradition.

As for the music, here are a few thoughts. The opening choral movement can stand on its own, and provides an interesting and challenging alto part (tenors and basses have “good” parts as well – the primary exposition of the cantus firmus is assigned to the sopranos although it travels through the other voices in modified form). The music divides into several sections following the changing ideas of the text, ending with the intricate Hallelujah. Here, Richter charges to the finish line in a highly unauthentic but very exciting way.

Versus II is a soprano/alto duet, and the parts are taken by the chorus in both recordings. I listened to the snippet of Koopman’s recording using solo voices on Amazon.com and didn’t care for it – I liked the sonority that Richter achieved with the chorus much better. However, the right combination of soloists with organ could be quite effective, especially if the movement is performed as a stand-alone selection.

For Versus III, Lehmann has an excellent tenor soloist, but this movement also works well using the tenor section (as Richter does). Indeed the structure seems designed for chorus with short, straight-forward vocal statements based on the chorale theme and a florid violin part connecting them. And there at M. 27 is the change-up – the transition to adagio (which is marked in the BGA full score) and the subito p (unmarked but if it’s good enough for the experts, I’ll take it) – to isolate the hollow remains of death, which has lost its power.

Lehmann’s 1950 recording is preserved (thankfully) because it captures the 25-year-old Fischer-Dieskau as soloist in Versus V. Already fully formed as a singer and interpreter, the characteristic traits come through: the emotion-driven voice sensitive to each nuance of text, the perfectly natural and never forced breath control, the blend, and the innate metrical sense. By the time he recorded for Richter, he was well into an international opera and concert career. The voice still easily negotiates the demands of a Bach aria, and although there is some inevitable change (such as slightly increased vibrato) maturity brings some rewards as well, such as an awesome. cavernous low E on the final Tode.

I have on order (eBay is a wonderful thing) the 1959 recording by Robert Shaw and his Chorale with the RCA Victor Orchestra which regrettably is only available in LP format. I can’t wait to hear what he does with this piece, based on my research he was the first American conductor to record BWV 4 with an American chorus and orchestra – quite an achievement in itself, to bring a pinnacle of German Lutheran church music to the American masses. In comments on this cantata in The Robert Shaw Reader, he remarks that “Each of the six verses is a miracle”.

With only a few days’ exposure to this great work, there hasn’t been much time to delve into commentary or analysis. As mentioned above, I did happen on Hubert Parry’s study of Bach, which is available free through Google eBooks. Although the book dates from 1909, and Parry’s writing often veers into the florid style typical of that era, it should not be dismissed out of hand. Yes, Bach scholarship has advanced immeasurably in the century since it was written, but these are the considered musings of a highly-talented musician, composer, and academician. His brief section on this cantata is insightful with analytical comments intended for the general listener. And I mean, can anyone really argue with this assessment?

“[Bach] gathered into his grasp so completely all the methods and experiments which had been devised in different quarters and in divers countries, and so welded them by the consistent power of his artistic personality, that the traces of their origin are forgotten; and the immense mass of great and noble works which he poured forth in a life of ceaseless activity seems to have but one nationality and one source in the steadfast and energetic working of a single mind.”

C. Hubert H. Parry, Johann Sebastian Bach: The Story of the Development of a Great Personality (1909)

There is plenty of great and noble work in this cantata to study and analyze. But overall, despite the many wonderful moments, even at this early stage of the project I find that I prefer a couple of the Leipzig works for both study and listening. However, that’s not to say I wouldn’t love to perform all or at least part (that opening chorus!) of BWV 4 before I hang it up! Note to the powers that be in the ‘hood – I hear it’s been about twenty years since it was done on Peachtree! Perhaps it’s time to re-visit…

BWV 3 - Ach Gott, wie manches Herzeleid

Week 3 ( 15 January - 20 January 2013)

Recording: Helmuth Rilling, Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart, and Bach-Collegium Stuttgart; Arleen Auger, soprano; Gabriele Schreckenbach, alto; Lutz-Michael Harder, tenor; Philippe Huttenlocher, bass

Imagine approaching a rather austere and forbidding castle on a hill. Upon opening the door, you walk into a room opulently decorated with the most intricate mosaics and priceless furnishings. The light is dazzling, and you can only make general impressions before moving on to the next room, which is equally ornate but in a slightly different style. Weaving through the labyrinthine corridors, you encounter room after room of riches, some larger than others, some perhaps more to your specific taste, but overwhelming in the grandeur and wealth on display.

That’s what this project is like.

The Valais History Museum in Sion, Switzerland is housed in a medieval castle where each chamber holds its own treasures waiting to be discovered. There is no linear path through the museum: the original room structures have been retained and not modified into a modern open floor plan. Walking through as a tourist, with only a couple hours to spend, I retained mostly superficial impressions. But if I were to return, I could pick up where I left off, incrementally increasing my knowledge and enjoyment.

This week’s impressions: BWV 3 is the plea of the individual, contrasted with the supplication of the collective depicted in BWV 2. The cantata has a fantastic opening choral movement with two oboe d’amore winding around the continuo and low strings as elaborate choral statements alternate with instrumental passages. This would be a nice movement to do in a special service, perhaps a memorial service, if the appropriate forces were available.

Although fairly long, the da capo soprano/alto duet Wenn Sorgen auf mich dringen is well worth learning for church or recital use, especially if you have access to a good organist and organ. Recordings vary so much in tempo that there is a 2-minute difference between Rilling’s version and Ton Koopman’s. While the text can adapt to the faster tempo, the slower pace gives the singers some room to maneuver. Also, it feels like the text calls for the lento that is apocryphally marked on the vocal score. For recital purposes, it is one of those pieces that needs to find its own level based on the two soloists’ capabilities and the accompanist’s dexterity – there won’t typically be multiple choices. For both parts, the duet is very challenging technically with a good workout on intervals and crossing the changes in the voice, as well as practice in maintaining a steady tempo throughout rhythmic changes. The voices here are functioning as two additional instruments, with the text being subsidiary to the musical lines.

I have enjoyed Rilling’s very balanced, assured recording. The voices of his soloists complement each other and blend well – not easy because there is quite a difference in the tessitura for each voice. The singers have to be particularly sensitive to not covering each other since a high soprano can typically “win” when the alto is in the lower part of the range (this is certainly the case in Koopman’s version). I would like to hear this (or sing it) with two voices closer in timbre to see what a different combination produces.

The singing on the Rilling version is very legato, which may not be to all tastes, but is nevertheless a difficult approach – it’s technically much easier to help the intervals happen with an occasional aspirated vowel than to make a seamless legato effect. The singers mix in more separated, marcato singing as required by the text, such as “will ich in Freudigkeit.”

The bass aria Empfind ich Höllenangst und Pein illustrates Bach's delight in matching music to text, with the ponderous, jagged opening declaration dissolving into a melodic cascade on the first syllable of the word "Freudenhimmel". Special mention needs to be made of bass soloist Philippe Huttenlocher, whose version is – perfect. He effortlessly handles melismas and ornaments by lightening his voice without losing the core sound, draws unobtrusive breaths perfectly in rhythm, and remains precisely in time and on pitch. This performance is something to ponder at length even if you are not a bass. It’s quite simply a tour de force or a force of nature or quite possibly both. He also has the “courage of the dissonance” – taking not only the full notated time on the passing tone but also singing to the sharp side of the pitch in order to obtain the full impact.

I think I will be looking into more of Mr. Huttenlocher’s recordings. One of the great joys of a project like this is that it stimulates curiosity that can lead to the discovery of some completely unexpected treasure. I looked up other recordings of Ernst Haefliger (tenor soloist on Richter’s BWV 1) and found that he had recorded a Winterreise (another project of mine). Turns out the recording was done using a true fortepiano, with the leather-wrapped hammers. As I listened to that version, I understood for the first time the sound Schubert had in mind when he composed the opening measures of Gefrorene Tränen. A revelation – all because I started learning Bach cantatas!

Three cantatas complete – so little, and yet so very much. I am dauntingly far from having the keys to the castle, but perhaps am starting to acquire nuggets from which to forge them.

BWV 2 - Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein

Week 2 (8 January - 13 January 2013)

Recording: Philippe Herreweghe, Collegium Vocale Ghent; Ingeborg Danz, alto; Jan Kobow, tenor; Peter Kooy, baritone

And for something completely different…from last week’s initial plunge into Bach’s church cantatas…here is BWV 2, the mournful plea of the people for divine assistance to eradicate false prophets and ideologies. This cantata certainly was a re-orientation after the shining glory of BWV 1. I should note that, since the BWV numbers were randomly assigned by Schmieder within each genre, this doesn’t reflect any intentional juxtaposition by either the composer or the church calendar of these two contrasting works.

There is of course much wonderful music in this cantata, particularly the opening chorus, with its dark, fugal structure and the tenor aria, where the diverging string parts seem to illustrate the tension between worldly influences and the desire to live a holy life. It rewards repeated hearings, but it would have greatest effect in the church setting it was originally intended to inhabit, as the listeners are exhorted to remain on guard against evil influences.

The alto aria Tilg, o Gott, die Lehren is an excellent study piece, less technically difficult than many Bach arias although there are not any that don't have challenges. The easier arias allow a singer to concentrate on diction and mastering typical Bach sequences. The phrasing here is straight-forward and the one extended passage (M. 31-35) is structured to allow an unobtrusive breath (as Ms. Danz does on the recording). It's also a good exercise in the differentiation in German vowel and consonant sounds, such as adjacent initial [z] and [ʃ] (sie sprechen) occurring in a rapid passage; [v], [f] (Wort verkehren); and [o], [ω] (o Gott). There is also the opportunity to work trills in the middle and lower part of the voice.

An unusual feature in this aria is the pairing of 16^th-note triplets in M.39 with the corresponding rhythm in the solo violin. It's very fun, and this aria is very much a chamber piece with the voice-violin dialogue. Note that the piano reduction in the Peters/Kalmus score that is on IMSLP doubles the violin part in some places where the actual orchestration has the voice and continuo only.  Because of the structure and text, this aria works best in the context of the cantata, and when performed with the violin and continuo.

I had selected the recording on the strength of Ingeborg Danz’ rendition of the aria, and not surprisingly it held up well in the other sections, yet another fine Herreweghe performance.

Another observation on that public domain vocal score: in the No. 2 tenor recitative there are some word substitutions that weaken the original , e.g. “Verwesung” [decay] for “Unflat ” [filth] - as if the editors were trying to make it more palatable for a less guilt-ridden audience. So far I haven't located the original version by Martin Luther - the middle verses are paraphrases attributed to an "unknown poet" - so the stronger language may not actually be the original.

I'm sure some researcher or specialist has probably considered whether that "unknown poet" could have been the master himself. For someone who could routinely churn out music of such complexity and mastery, one would think mere words would not present a problem, and the task could possibly have been born out of necessity as he worked quickly and would hear what he wanted the text-music match to be as he composed. But this will forever remain a mystery.

Lastly, for those who want to time travel, imagine yourself nearly (300) years ago in the church in Leipzig (looking at photos online at gives you the idea of place), hearing these words that are already (200) years old. The emotional distance between that 18^th-century congregation and Martin Luther was far smaller than the years indicate: life was sufficiently like 16^th-century life for them to still identify and accept those words literally. It is interesting to think about that connection spanning nearly (500) years, and ponder some words that are just as relevant for our time:

Wie wenig sind der Heilgen dein…Der Glaub ist auch verloschen gar bei allen Menschenkindern

How few among us are Your saints…Faith is quite extinguished among all mankind.

BWV 1 - Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern

Week 1 (1 January - 6 January 2013)

Recording: Vol. 13 - Das Kantatenwerk: Ton Koopman, Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra and Choir; Deborah York, soprano; Paul Agnew, tenor; Klaus Mertens, baritone

And away we go! You probably have never heard this cantata, even if you've listened to a lot more Bach than I have. But the hymn tune on which the opening chorus and chorale are based, and which gives the work its title, may be familiar. And it's absolutely worth not only repeated listens but more frequent concert programming as well (although I may end up saying that about each and every cantata). Joyous music - it's a fantastic way to start the project, and Amsterdam Baroque's recording sparkles.

A confession: although I don’t want this project to be an exercise in comparing recordings, I was enjoying the music so much I broke down and bought the Karl Richter version with the Munich Bach Choir and Orchestra (recorded in the mid-1960’s). More than thirty years separate the two recordings: the style for Richter is full-throated singing and downright lusty playing (although never sacrificing clarity and accuracy) – completely different from the historically-informed Koopman performance, which is invigorating but has the refined restraint that is now the standard in baroque performance. However, Richter has three of the greatest Bach soloists ever – Edith Mathis, Ernst Haefliger and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. And the recording quality is surprisingly good.

So I may be broke before I’m six months into this project, but for perceptive ears, you can get as much instruction from several dollars of MP3 files than hundreds spent in coaching. Ms. Mathis’ Erfüllet, ihr himmlischen, göttlichen Flammen is a full minute slower than Deborah York’s, but it is sensuous and flowing. Even at the slower tempo she handles the long melismatic phrase (the one that occurs in every Bach aria and gives us fits) with calm, focused, uninterrupted sound. Well, it’s something to work towards. Koopman’s faster tempo is typically what is preferred now, and Ms. York handles it superbly, with great attention paid to matching the rhythms of the accompanying oboe da caccia (I suspect the earlier recording uses an English horn – in either case it’s a wonderful part for a double-reed player). The result is exactly what you should aim for as a vocal chamber musician. She also provides a model of tasteful ornamentation and phrasing. But if you don’t have the technique and the lightness in the voice to make it seem effortless at the faster tempo, it will sound panicked.

The later recording uses baroque tuning (A = 415 Hz) which makes that aria more accessible for me by effectively bringing it down a half-step. I admit I was flailing at the high Ab (not at all the same as a Wagner Ab) so it was nice to get that out of there. It’s a great study piece, teaching all the skills you can develop through singing Bach: stamina, precision, flexibility, and uniformity of the voice. And if you have a friend that plays English horn, it would be an excellent and different recital piece (IMSLP has an edition prepared by Canadian composer Michel Rondeau with the oboe part separately notated.)

The tenor aria could be used any time, in a church service or for a recital – the text is not specific to any liturgical event – but it is technically very challenging. Haefliger attacks the music with a full but pure tone. His precision, diction, and vowel sounds – especially the awkward sustained vowel in könig – make his interpretation one any singer, not just a tenor, can profitably study. Copy everything and you will do just fine.

Although the cantata was originally written for the Feast of the Annunciation, the Nicolai chorale tune is associated with Epiphany. Our church music this Epiphany Sunday morning had unexpected connections – the opening organ voluntary was Buxtehude’s interpretation of the chorale (BuxWV 223), and we sang Mendelssohn’s “Behold a star” which contains the chorale. So coincidentally I have been inundated with this music, quite apart from the Bach version.

Any time I need a pick-me-up, this cantata will be one of the works I put on the CD player. I wish I had more time to spend with it, as I’m just scratching the surface of not only Bach’s music but all the connections with the history of the hymn tune. But the point of this project is basic familiarization: perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to have the time and opportunity at some later date to revisit this work in more depth.

Und schmecken auf Erden die himmlische Lust

And taste heavenly delight in our earthly sphere

This cantata certainly provides a taste of heaven. And it’s just the beginning…

A New Year - A New Project

Several years ago during the musically dry months of the summer of 2009, I decided to inflict a challenge on myself to learn a new song (lied) every day for three months. The objective was not to have the piece performance ready, but to study enough about it to serve as a launching pad if I ever decided to seriously prepare it. It was a fascinating experience in discovering and understanding the learning process, and with the New Year upon us, it seemed like this might be the time for a comparable project.

There were lots of options, such as a variation on the "song-a-day" focusing on one composer (Schubert, Brahms, Wolf - all would be wonderful). But some of that is scheduled to be done anyhow - so I was looking for an even bigger task.

And then it came to me out of the blue - the Bach church cantatas. Learn them all. All two hundred of them.

Now, I am not a Bach expert or enthusiast. This is not my fach. Growing up as a clarinetist, the repertoire for that instrument starts with Mozart - either as soloist or chamber musician, you don't see much Bach unless it's in an arrangement. As a singer, my concentration has always been the German Romantics with some Verdi thrown in "because I could". I have sung "Et exultavit", "Ich will dir mein Herze schenken" and a few more of the well-known arias, but that's about it. And as a chorister I have been privileged to perform the Magnificat, St. Matthew Passion and several other works.

It's not an extensive Bach resume, and none of it remotely qualifies me to speak knowledgeably about such an incredibly complex body of work that is accompanied by reams of commentary and analysis; that is the subject of a vast and ever-growing discography of which a comparative study alone would take most of an academic career; and that has theoretical underpinnings far beyond my very limited background to elucidate.

But while I don't aspire to become an expert at this late stage in the game, I know I can benefit, musically and intellectually, through as much exposure to this repertoire as possible. The riches are truly untold, and thanks to the resources available online, they are accessible to anyone.

So here's the plan:

1. Study one (1) cantata over the course of a week (give or take a few days, and with allowances for vacations and concert weeks, etc. - the project's not going to be a strait jacket).
2. Find a good recording and download the piano-vocal score (there are several sources - IMSLP and perhaps the greatest concentration of information is located at http://www.bach-cantatas.com).
3. Get some basic background and historical info, such as from Wikipedia. If there's time, check out some of the plenteous commentary (often linked through the Wiki page).
4. Learn the solo(s), ensembles, and choral lines for my voice part (soprano and alto, since often the ranges overlap and I have sung both at various times). Same rules as "song of the day" - understand the text, learn the notes, find the problems, and leave it at the point where it can be picked up and improved. No "perfection" required.
5. Step back at the end of the study period and form the "takeaway" impressions - what do I want to remember? Do I ever want to hear the cantata or any part of it again? Is there a solo or duetto worth taking to the next level? What will be permanently on my MP3 player (sorry, I've never entered the Apple universe)? 
6. Take a day (or a couple days) off, clear the brain, cleanse the palate, and go back to step 1.

Just because it makes sense to a quantitative person like me, I'm starting right where the Bach-Gesellschaft did about (160) years ago - with BWV 1.  Even doing a "cantata a week" we are looking at 4+ years to work through them all. I can't guarantee I will make it; the odds are probably against it. But who cares about that? The point is to embark and see where the journey takes you.

Care to join me? Look in occasionally, or work along from time to time if the spirit takes you. It's the kind of project where you can jump in at any point - I'm the only one who's going for 100% completion. My comments will be recorded here as a collecting point and to minimize the accumulation of notebooks in my studio. No great profundity or erudition is promised - just the thoughts of a singer and student at work.

Happy New Year!