Recording: John Eliot Gardiner, Monteverdi Choir, and English Baroque Soloists; Bernarda Fink, alto; Steve Davislim, tenor; Julian Clarkson, bass
BWV 6 is sometimes referred to as the “Emmaus” cantata. The overarching concept stems from the meeting of the disciples with the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus (near Jerusalem). The disciples do not know the identity of the stranger they meet, but nevertheless they welcome him into their home “as even falls”. The Biblical text describes literal darkness, but the cantata is based on the exploration of metaphorical darkness.
If you sing this cantata, one skill you will soon perfect is the placement of the consonants [bl] before the beat. The opening chorus contains many repetitions of the phrase Bleib bei uns, and those words alternately serve as poignant plea, humble request, and righteous demand (as in the central fugal section which is anchored by the cantus firmus-like call of “Bleib bei uns” in voices and instruments). Gardiner’s version is more “baroque” in style, but I love what Rilling does with the opening phrase of this chorus – intensifying and connecting the two repetitions of “Bleib bei uns” that occur in the first four measures to immediately create a sense of urgency to the people’s pleading. This fairly short chorus has enough variety (with challenging parts for all voices) to stand on its own, although without orchestra it would also provide a substantial challenge for the organist!
The cantata includes a lovely, short (approximately 3 ½ minutes) aria for alto. Although the obbligato is written for oboe da caccia, this piece would work well as a church solo with organ accompaniment only. The quality of the soloists, acoustics, and cohesion in Gardiner’s “Cantata Pilgrimage” recordings can vary, but the rendition of BWV 6, performed at St. John’s in London, is very respectable, and has an excellent alto soloist in Bernarda Fink. The aria is not as easy as it first appears, particularly with finding places to breathe that don’t interrupt the flow – although note that Ms. Fink takes the time needed at advantageous locations such as M. 65 where the accompaniment has a well-placed quarter rest. Sometimes they just have to wait for you!
This aria is a very useful exercise for developing skills in Baroque ornamentation and trills. The Rilling version of this cantata with Carolyn Watkinson is done at a slower tempo in modern pitch making it easier to follow for study purposes. Although her voice has a larger vibrato than is generally accepted in this music today, she is very meticulous with ornamentation. And as with the opening coro, the alto soloist gets many opportunities to practice good diction with “Bleib, ach bleibe unser Licht” the central phrase of the B section of the aria.
Although text repetition is the rule in Baroque music, looking at the manner in which Bach sets this aria shows the amount of thought behind his approach. The opening phrase “Hochgelobter Gottessohn” is repeated twice, using the same music (good news for the singer, who once having mastered it gets multiple duty from it). The next line of text is also repeated twice, with slightly different music. Then arises the interesting question: why did Bach only use the next phrase “dass wir itzt vor deinem Thron” once? He sets the words to the music used for the opening text of the aria, and a lesser composer might have continued re-using what was done before. But perhaps Bach felt that the direct address to divinity needed the emphasis of repetition, while the description of the action (“we come now before your throne”) is just a bridge to what occurs there (“eine Bitte niederlegen” – “to offer up a request”, which phrase receives two repetitions, each with its own distinct music). There is just never anything casual about the workmanship of these pieces.
Gardiner’s performance uses the soprano section for the third movement chorale, Ach bleib bei uns, and this seems to make sense given the tessitura of the vocal part and the instrumentation for the accompaniment. The chorale calls for a “violoncello piccolo”, a shadowy Baroque stringed instrument about which not much seems to be known. If this movement is done with a modern cello, a small group of sopranos would better balance the instrument and continuo while also providing more depth of sound without introducing vibrato. For a soprano soloist, it is difficult to achieve the weight to balance with the instruments without making a soloistic sound – as beautifully as Edith Wiens sings on Rilling’s recording, it just does not sound like the solo voice belongs here, unless of course the entire cantata is being performed by a solo quartet only (and it has been recorded that way).
The tenor aria is also a short A-B piece and it is built around a wonderful violin solo. Rilling’s concertmaster plays with an insistent pressure to create a horizontal tension that mirrors the tenor’s “[dass wir nicht] auf der Sündenwegen gehen”. There are some fun licks in here, including some word-painting melismas (“scheinen”, “meinen”), but this aria needs the violin if you want to perform it.
In thinking about what Bach’s solo vocalists had to contend with, not only musically but in simply trying to read the handwritten music every week, I did a little investigation to get an idea how far we’ve come. The archive at www.bach-digital.de provides the fascinating capability to view many of Bach’s extant manuscripts (extreme close-up is possible for the really serious researcher). Here is a snippet from the alto aria Hochgelobter Gottessohn showing (top to bottom): J.S. Bach’s manuscript; the Bach Gesellschaft Ausgabe edition by Breitkopf & Härtel (1851 – engraved plate, retaining the alto clef notation); and the piano reduction by Bernhard Todt based on the BGA full score, also published by Breitkopf & Härtel (1890 – engraved plate). Take a look at the evolution of legibility and consider how good we have it:

The third movement was later used by Bach as the basis for an organ chorale (one of the Schübler Chorales, BWV 649). So in a quest to check out the organ music to understand just how closely the two versions are related, there was a slight detour which, with the inevitability this type of project tends to have, led me to the recordings of German organist Helmut Walcha. These will soon be giving me some listening pleasure when I’m in a “non-cantata” mood.

Blind for his entire adult life, Walcha committed Bach’s organ music – all of it – to memory, learning each voice individually by listening to someone play it. He is quoted as having said:
“Bach opens a vista to the universe. After experiencing him, people feel there is meaning to life after all.”
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