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…
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