Recording: Helmuth Rilling, Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart/Bach-Collegium Stuttgart; Eva Csapó, soprano; Gabriele Schnaut, alto; Adalbert Kraus, tenor; Wolfgang Schöne, bass
Sometimes the weekly cantata arrives perfectly
timed with other events, and so it was last week, as the spring deluge came
upon Atlanta and north Georgia. Driving back from rehearsal Monday night in the
midst of yet another downpour, I put the BWV 18 recording in the CD player and
was greeted with the musical depiction of what I was actually experiencing!
The
opening sinfonia begins with detached
quarter notes arranged in groups of three – two identical pitches followed by a
third note a fifth down – raindrops. The rain patters down on a grey day
described by strings: Bach’s original Weimar scoring calls for four
viola parts, probably not because there was an abundance of Weimeraner
violists, but to achieve (in John Eliot Gardiner’s apt description) a
“magically dark-hued sonority” consistent with the scene being depicted. (In a
subsequent Leipzig performing version, the violas are augmented by the frosty
tone of recorders.) The viola I and II introduce a second motif with larger
drops, perhaps describing that point where it suddenly becomes uncomfortable to
walk unprotected in the rain. The shower intensifies until at M. 13 the raindrops
become a cloudburst, as the overlapping viola parts create the effect of
sheeting rain, or perhaps a snow squall in colder climates.
This moment is
reminiscent of music in the “Winter” movement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons – although that’s an inaccurate adjective, as “Winter”
was composed about ten years after
this piece. The sinfonia is a small
gem that deserves some programming opportunities apart from the cantata. It’s
also a nice opportunity for a sometimes maligned instrument to have a starring
role, with nary a “small viola” in sight.
The bass recitative provides the
Biblical text for what the music has just illustrated: the parable of the
sower. (Note that the text in M. 4 should be feuchtet (moisten, dampen) not fruchtet.)
Other than an accompagnato
interpolation in the middle section, this recitative is traditional. However, Bach
seemed to be experimenting with some different ideas in this cantata, and after this calmly sung scripture, there
are about to be remarkable, even jarring moments.
The third movement is structured
as a litany, where the tenor and bass alternate solo verses with a response
consisting of a chant-like soprano statement (sung either by a soloist or by the
section) leading into a refrain (sung either by the vocal soloists or by SATB
choir). The soloists’ texts are reminders of the invincibility of “the word”,
which is again equated to seeds that sprout to spread good in the world. The
marvelous modulation at M.3 on the tenor’s word öffne is the introduction to the gentlest of the invocations. The chords in the continuo for the bass’ repetitions
of des Teufels Trug verkehre are a
startling progression that require faith in the written notes to stretch the
dissonance as far as it will go.
After the choral refrain, the tenor re-enters
with another discordant jolt on the cry of Ach!
Looking more closely at the text, the point is to warn those who want to turn
away from God’s word that their decision will have lasting consequences. The
tenor has an instrumental-like cadenza on the word Verfolgung, which can mean persecution but can also refer to pursuit
(the notes indicate the latter meaning was in Bach’s mind; the former possibly could apply to the abuse of the
tenor). The passage requires the singer to keep after the
melisma and persecute it with forward momentum, as Adalbert Kraus does.
Similarly, after listing
the various ways in which one can go astray, the final recitative (bass) of the litany focuses
on several elaborate melismas on the verb irregehen,
to lose one’s way – which is easy enough for the singer to do as the notes wind
around with an uncertain destination.
Mein
Seelenschatz ist Gottes Wort is a high-soprano aria which is probably best
left within the cantata, where it serves a structural purpose by providing
contrast to the litany as well as thematic continuity. Note how in M. 13 (and
again in M. 19), Bach underlines the comparison of worldly treasures (Schätze) to entrapments (Netze) by using
the same music on each word. The A-B-C-A
form has a diction-challenging C
portion, where the righteous declaration fort
mit allen, fort, nur fort is repeated in four slightly different variations.
It’s not the easiest text to get out, even for native speakers – you need to
cheat a little on the consonants.
There is not much action for the alto in this
cantata – the refrain in the third movement is a few measures of easy music
repeated four times: a congregation could do it, and perhaps this was the
original intent. The concluding chorale could be done by either a choir or a
quartet, depending on the available resources. In our time, it would hardly
make sense to have a choir show up just for the chorale, unless the cantata was
programmed together with a chorus-centric work. The chorale is based on a
hymn from 1524 whose author, Lazarus Spengler, was a leader of the Reformation
in Nuremberg, and was one of those excommunicated along with Martin Luther.
The
main text of BWV 18 was written by Erdmann Neumeister, one of the better
cantata “librettists”, and was first set to music by Bach’s colleague Georg
Philipp Telemann. I could not find
Telemann’s setting of this cantata, but there is an expanding body of
Telemann recordings so perhaps it will surface in the future. Often belittled in
comparison to the master, Telemann produced a vast number of works, including more
than 1,000 cantatas (and the answer to that question is “no”!), which are only
recently being appreciated for their unique role in bridging Baroque and
Classical music. He lived a more secular life than Bach, musically and
personally, with many challenges, but apparently was a great friend of J.S.,
who chose him as godfather to his son Carl Philipp Emanuel. Telemann’s rejection
of the Leipzig cantor position created a job vacancy whose successful applicant went
on to write quite a number of cantatas himself...
Once again, Helmuth Rilling
produced a performance that stands the test of time as an involving, dynamic
interpretation with orchestra and soloists of the first rank. I have used quite
a few of his recordings to date, partly for the reason that they come bundled
together by BWV order – so one CD purchase nets a sequence of three or four
cantatas. But even if it weren’t an economical approach, I consistently prefer the
vitality and drama of his versions. I enjoy the wonderful cycles by Koopman,
Suzuki, and Gardiner, but leaving historically-informed performance aside for a
moment, the reality is that Bach didn’t always have the resources he wanted,
much less envisioned as he composed. You can argue all day that Bach didn’t
have as large an orchestra, his players weren’t skilled enough to play at
Rilling’s tempi, and his vocalists weren’t oratorio artists by day and opera
singers by night. But I suspect he would have leapt at the chance to have those
resources. He would have made the most of them, too: given the endless
inspiration he found with just a few Leipzig strings, oboes and recorders, it
boggles the mind (at least this mind) to contemplate what further musical inspirations
he could have produced. Under those circumstances, this project might have been to study 1,000 Bach cantatas!
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