Recording:
Philippe Herreweghe, Collegium Vocale Gent; Ingeborg Danz, alto; Jan Kobow, tenor; Peter
Kooy, bass
Eternity. One of those philosophically
and poetically charged words that have lost weight over the last century. Our ever-expanding
ability to travel and to communicate has collapsed time and distance so that no
aspect of human experience takes very long – most
everything in our lives happens immediately or sooner. The imagination has no frame of
reference to grasp a more existential meaning of eternity, so we use the word
for comic exaggeration (for example, to describe the length of the first work
day after a four-day Memorial Day break). But for the early Protestants, life
and faith unfolded on a much different time scale, and the eternal damnation that
is front and center in this cantata evoked a visceral response. Although some
people in Bach’s congregations perhaps already heard the fire and brimstone
threats as allegories, such warnings were still powerful reminders to resist worldly
temptations. Forget heavenly eternity with angels, harps and unlimited
zero-calorie chocolate: if you sinned during your earthly sojourn, eternity was
going to be a long, hard, hot slog – without end.
The cantata structure is based
on a hymn with text by Johann Rist set to a tune of Johann Schop (a violin
virtuoso of the mid-17th-century). The three choral
movements utilize material directly from the hymn; Bach set the two chorales
using identical music but different verses. The unknown poet was at work
elsewhere, tacking conventional admonitions on some of the juiciest lines extracted
from the original texts. Given the topic, these words are not exactly an easy
sell to a modern congregation. If not performing the complete cantata, extracts
are more suited to recital use, unless you really want to shake things up!
Excerpt of the Hymn O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort from Himmlische Lieder (1652)
Although
I used Herreweghe’s fine recording as the study performance this week (due
largely to his always-excellent chorus and the absolutely admirable alto
Ingeborg Danz), a whole other level of appreciation for what this cantata can
be came from listening to John Eliot Gardiner’s “cantata pilgrimage” recording.
The performance is high drama; it must have been one intense concert. Gardiner
makes the opening choral statement of O
Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort coalesce into a great declaration that sets the
cantata in motion, complete with a precise “snap” at the release of Ewigkeit and the rumble of thunder in
the A/T/B voices. The movement is composed in the style of a Baroque French
overture: a slow section followed by a fast. A short orchestral sinfonia at the start and finish of the
slow portion book-ends three significant “O”
statements which are separated by short instrumental phrases.
The fast 3/4
section runs smack into the concluding pages (marked in the vocal score Tempo I, which is implied by the return to 4/4). I
struggled to understand this section structurally. According to the rules the closing should
reference the slow part; but with its operatic word-painting of the erschrocknes Herz we are really in new
territory, in every respect. And the
oft-quoted concept of tongue cleaving to the roof of the mouth, that forms the
last line of the choral text – what exactly does that phrase mean? Perhaps fear so
profound that the mouth dries out and the tongue sticks to the palate rendering speech impossible. OK, I
haven’t experienced this (and don’t really want to), but if you think about
that physical phenomenon, Bach’s musical interpretation makes sense, as the
four vocal parts converge onto a final unison F on klebt and the instruments dwindle into silence.
The tenor gets
assigned the “role” of the terrified sinner staring into the pit of hell. It’s
a dynamite recitative and aria, and worthy singers will be few and far between.
Paul Agnew is Gardiner’s tenor soloist, and although to my ears he is far from
ideal (his voice has a pronounced beat whenever it is put under pressure), he
has no competition in the florid passages, where his machine-gun articulation
vividly informs the eternal Flammen
and Feuer that await those who do not
turn away from evil. It’s hard to believe what you are hearing, and this
unmatched technical ability probably explains why he also recorded this cantata
(although with a slower tempo on the aria) for Ton Koopman. Jan Kobow is
smoother and slower for Herreweghe, and has fine technique for the difficult
interval passages (M.73-77 – a fantastic
exercise even if you don’t learn the entire aria).
The bass has not one but two substantial
arias, the first ruminative and the second more extroverted. BWV 20 is one of
the Leipzig cantatas designed in two sections, for pre- and post-sermon music.
If at the opening of Part II trumpets and strings weren’t enough to rouse the
dozing Lutherans, the bass enters vigorously with the words Wacht auf, wacht auf, verlorne Schafe. A
nice touch of the master’s humor in the midst of all the hell fire. This aria
seemed to be a natural for Fischer-Dieskau, and it’s hard to believe there’s
anything he didn’t record, but a recording was not to be found. However, Dietrich
Henschel on Gardiner’s recording is the next best thing to FiDi – dramatic but
emoting within the constraints of the music.
You won’t hear the short alto aria better
sung than in Ingeborg Danz’s version, where the little ascending scale on entfliehe is released exactly as if the
notes are fleeing along with the repentant sinner trying to escape hell. The words
of the alto recitative are relevant to our over-stuffed lives today, and offer
many interpretive choices depending on how you want to convey the idea of
life’s transitory nature.
The alto/tenor duet that illustrates a final reason to
tow the straight and narrow gets a spooky, ominous treatment in the Gardiner
recording, due to the soloists’ vocal coloring and dynamics. It’s important to
know that the Breitkopf & Härtel vocal score has a fabricated accompaniment
for this duet that has nothing to do with the original scoring, which is for
minimalist continuo. This excellent and challenging piece requires close
cooperation between the singers on matters of phrasing and rhythmic precision –
especially at Sir John’s tempo.
The vocal score on IMSLP was the victim of a
poor scanning job, and in several places part of the top system is cut
off. If you want to perform this cantata, don’t rely on the public domain copy.
But given the amount of high-quality public domain material that I have already
utilized for this project, a few pages here and there is no big deal, and for
study purposes it worked. The other feature of this score is that there is a
French translation laid in along with the original German. French? Well, Bach’s
cantatas have been performed and even recorded in languages other than German
(e.g. a recording in Japanese of BWV 21). And there was a 19th-century
Bach revival in France that included such proponents as Charles Gounod (introduced
to Bach’s music by Fanny Mendelssohn) who came to believe that Bach’s works
were “the unquestioned textbook of musical composition”.
This week finishes the
first 10% of this project; I can hardly believe I’m there. Time as measured both
in calendar days and in cantatas has zoomed by this year – exactly the opposite
of eternity – and as I prepare to dive into BWV 21, I can only express awed
gratitude that this gift has found its way to me. I’ve had the opportunity to meet twenty
new friends, each with an unique personality: the cantatas have all the musical
and intellectual qualities of people with whom one would happily make time to
associate. Every week, I can’t wait to meet the next one. And guess what? I
will be making time to do just that.
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