BWV 19 - Es erhub sich ein Streit

Week 19 (14 May – 19 May 2013)

Recording: Masaaki Suzuki, Bach Collegium Japan; Hana Blažíková, soprano; Gerd Türk, tenor; Peter Kooy, bass
 

Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel Ordnungen?

The opening line of Rilke’s epic Duino Elegies references the angelic hierarchy of which St. Michael is the highest officer. He is the protector of the Christian kingdom in the mortal sphere and the leader of the Christian “army”, invoked in the offertory prayer in the Catholic mass for the dead:

Sed signifer sanctus Michael repraesentet eas in lucem santam

(May St. Michael the standard-bearer bring them into the holy light)

These words of promise and hope have given rise to one of the most beautiful vocal lines ever written for the soprano voice – in the Offertorio of Verdi’s Requiem; as well as an ethereal moment in the soprano choral part of Duruflé’s Requiem (which magnificent work took up all my "free" time last week, delaying the cantata notes – and it was absolutely worth it!). But it is Michael's role in the "war in heaven" – the battle of good and evil – that inspired this Leipzig cantata, which was composed to celebrate St. Michael’s feast day, Michaelmas. This holiday coincided with the harvest – the most important secular event in an agrarian society – and subsequently became the time in the German calendar for the payment of accounts and the completion of administrative duties prior to onset of winter. A significant occasion requiring significant music.

 

In the Biblical book of Revelation, St. Michael engages the forces of darkness at the apocalypse, and symbolically slays evil in the form of a dragon. This scene is much depicted in religious paintings and statuary (such as the woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, below). J. S. Bach would have been very familiar with this imagery; orphaned at ten years old, he went to the town of Ohrdruf to live with his older brother Johann Christoph, becoming his apprentice at the Michaeliskirche, which undoubtedly contained multiple representations of the saint.

 

Albrecht Dürer, Saint Michael Fighting the Dragon, woodcut (1498)

A lifetime’s absorption of these images is converted into the challenging dal segno chorus that opens the cantata. The ebb and flow of battle is reproduced through the convoluted pairing of melismatic and declamatory vocal parts. The trumpets and timpani occasionally surface over the warriors, but the competing choral lines, now dominated by sopranos and altos, now by the tenors and basses, surge over the instruments. St. Michael’s opponents, the dragon and serpent, are portrayed with nearly equal vehemence in the B section, with the triumph of the saint through the support of his army depicted with more cohesive structure in the C section. It's a chorus that should be done more often, and it offers a conductor so many options – if I were in that line of work I'd find this one irresistible. The precision and unity of Suzuki’s Bach Collegium is very impressive, perhaps offering a window into what Bach envisioned when he composed. For my taste, he eclipses even John Eliot Gardiner’s astonishing Monteverdi choir, which is unleashed upon this movement at a tempo that any other chorus would deem cruel and unusual – and that is probably far faster than anything ever imagined for Baroque choral and instrumental forces. For something closer to what Bach probably heard that Sunday in Leipzig, the RIAS Cantata Project recording from 1950 under Karl Ristenpart is historically interesting.

 

The lovely and very difficult soprano aria uses the voice instrumentally, in combination with two oboe d'amore and continuo. An error in the text in the old Breitkopf & Härtel vocal score should be corrected before learning the aria: the words seine Heere (first occurrence in M.14-15) should be replaced by Mahanaim. This makes all the difference from an interpretive standpoint: a holy army sent to keep the peace, versus the creation of a figurative utopia at any place where believers arrive. Undoubtedly the most challenging section of this aria is the 6-measure long melisma (M. 56-61). At the graceful and moderate tempo that is appropriate for the aria, nobody can make it through this passage without some tactful breaths. For some hints on how to do this, Malin Hartelius (Gardiner) and Hana Blažiková (Suzuki) take similar approaches in singing this aria. Neither are over-powering or technically dazzling, but they are excellent Baroque stylists. The aria itself is probably best used within the cantata, as it depends on the oboe d’amore color for tonal variety as well as melodic architecture.

 

On the other hand, the tenor recitative and aria are possible recital material. This is one of the loveliest tenor arias encountered to date, and while there is some difficult ornamentation written into the part, and another long melisma (M. 89 et. seq.), overall it is very friendly to the voice. However, it is 7-8 minutes worth of music, with Bleibt bei mir repeated about twenty-four times, so the singer needs to have confidence he can keep things interesting. Some judicious editing could be considered with sufficient study of the piece. A chorale tune is overlaid by an obbligato trumpet in the original, but a similar effect could be achieved with organ accompaniment. Note that in this aria there are also several mistakes in the public domain vocal score (check the Emmanuel Church translation or any recent recording for guidance).

The bass and soprano recitatives are perhaps in that category of pages composed by a student under the master's direction. Both seem somewhat uninspired and lacking in detail, although it may simply have been that Henrici's simplistic texts did not inspire Bach as did some other poets. Likewise the chorale setting that ends the cantata. And who could blame him if he did enlist some help? It's not like there wasn't already a surfeit of genius in the coro and solo arias!

 

This project has already taken me to many enjoyable, fascinating places. But because Bach’s music is part of the cultural heritage of Germany, it is inextricably linked to that country’s history. Music is portable through time, it becomes interwoven with history in a way that static works of art cannot. And that means the project will also take me to some disturbing, haunting places, as it did this week.

 

If on the trail of Bach facts you look up the history of Ohrdruf, what you will find is that the Nazi concentration camp located there was the first camp liberated by the Allies in 1945 (with the merciless irony of history, two hundred and fifty years after Bach arrived in 1695). General Eisenhower and other Allied commanders saw first-hand the victims, living and dead. General Patton reportedly said the camp was "one of the most appalling sights that I have ever seen" and could not enter some of the areas for fear of becoming physically ill.

Did some of the same townsfolk who worked at the camp attend services in the Michaeliskirche before it was destroyed in 1945? Did they sing Bach’s music in the midst of their wartime duties, perhaps even BWV 19, seeing themselves as the mighty and righteous army led by their patron saint? Did they seek shelter in the Michaeliskirche as the Allied raids rained bombs down around them, not recognizing that history had reversed their roles? Did they forget the gentle warning contained in the soprano recitative instructing them to love Michael and his angels, not alienate them: Und sie mit unsern Sünden nicht vertreiben oder auch betrüben (and with our sins never drive them away or disturb them)?

The last traces of the Ohrdruf that Bach knew were destroyed in the war, the angels long since departed. The bell tower of the Michaeliskirche, pathetically patched together during the succeeding Communist era, was finally restored after German reunification. For the last several years, a committee has mounted a Bachtage music festival, using the music of its most famous resident to continue rebuilding the area's cultural tourism industry. Certainly, demonstrating the survival and continuity of Bach's music is a powerful response to what happened at Ohrdruf during the Holocaust, a bridge to a future where the stains can be less visible. But the historical record is what it is, and Ohrdruf will never wipe those stains out completely. Not even Bach can do that.

Wer, wenn ich schriee…