BWV 45 - Es ist dir gesagt, Mensch, was gut ist

Week 45 (11 August – 16 August 2015)

Recording: Helmuth Rilling, Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart/Bach-Collegium Stuttgart; Julia Hamari, alto; Aldo Baldin, tenor; Philippe Huttenlocher, bass

This through-composed Leipzig cantata shows Bach at the height of his compositional and interpretive powers, at times bumping against his own conventions (such as completely foregoing the use of da capo arias). He combines scripture, existing cantata poetry, and hymn verse to great thematic effect, with the narrative arc seamlessly constructed from Micah’s opening exhortation to the closing chorale. Every note and word flows inevitably following the E major chord that opens the work.

 

A melodic sequence that (in 1726) could only have been written by J.S. Bach is the signature motif of the opening coro. The motif is found in elaborated form in the great alto aria Wohl euch, ihr auserwählten Seelen in BWV 34 (composed slightly later). A long instrumental introduction establishes this theme, which will recur in all three sections of the choral material.

 

 

Three iterations of Es ist dir gesagt are declaimed in simple canon before the sopranos launch into a full-blown fugue at M.54. The melody descends through the voices until a complex yet accessible contrapuntal exposition is achieved. The central section of the movement communicates the heart of the verse, with a straight-forward homophonic setting focused on a sustained halten (to hold or to keep, referring to Gottes Wort) that transitions to a fugal treatment of the words und Liebe üben, und demütig sein. The last section of the chorus shortens the treatments of all previous material and text, combining them into a unified and concise summary.

 

Although marked as cut time, the alla breve is subject to interpretation and doesn’t automatically equate to allegro or faster. The tempo variation in recordings of this cantata varies widely – Rilling takes a very slow tempo – almost seeming to ignore the indication. There is undeniable solidity, even majesty, in this approach, but it is devoid of sparkle. Gardiner heads in the opposite direction with very fast tempi, sometimes to the loss of expressiveness in the text. For this movement, I enjoyed Suzuki’s interpretation which clearly structures the vocal lines: Karl Richter is surprisingly similar in tempo, but the enforced detached singing of his chorus produces excessive verticality.

 

Albert Schweitzer views the “many repetitions” of Es ist dir gesagt as “quite disconcerting… [it’s] incomprehensible why Bach should set himself the impossible task of making a chorus of this verse”. However, more recent commentators have appraised this movement differently. Klaus Hoffman in his notes for Suzuki’s recording wonderfully describes the use of the fugue theme to set the text und Liebe üben as a feature which “astonishes and illuminates in equal measure”. Revisiting this chorus after a long break, I remembered how much fun this music is to sing, for all voices. Everyone gets a chance at the melody, and even when accompagnato the lines are anything but boring.

 

The key words of Micah – Wort, Liebe, Demut – are recalled in the tenor recitative. The text from an unknown author centers on the concept that we have been told what we are to do (the poet’s choice to describe this is Richtschnur – an uncommon word, figuratively, a guiding principle). If we choose to ignore this, we should not expect grace. The tenor aria continues this idea, and musically has a high tessitura while also requiring blend and flexibility in the lower voice. Although Aldo Baldin may sound too operatic for some tastes, he negotiates the challenges, as does another large voice, the formidable Ernst Haefliger in Richter’s account. The aria is dramatic and musically varied, and an excellent recital piece for an advanced singer .A nice example of Bach’s attention to detail begins in M.56, where a highly-chromatic passage is matched to scharfe – this line is a good extract for teaching purposes.

 

 

Bach’s music for the Gospel reading provides an extremely difficult challenge for a baritone con agilita, with fast melismatic passages alternating with plentiful interval leaps. The aria works best within the cantata from a textual standpoint. The performance by Philippe Huttenlocher is the main reason I chose the Rilling recording for study – he sings with superb musicianship while never failing to be a convincing vox Christi.

 

The alto aria with flute obbligato is a beautifully flowing movement (the marking of cantabile in the public domain vocal score is the work of a later editor, but it is apt). This lyricism is somewhat at odds with the text, particularly the ominous words of the B section. The aria provides a good phrasing exercise, the composer sets the text so that logical places are provided, but breath must be taken quickly without disturbing the line. The melisma M.19-23 is a valuable study for managing breath through a complicated passage. Note that the aforementioned vocal score has many errors, notably M.56 - if you intend to perform this piece, invest in an up-to-date score).

 

While the text might not go over so well in a modern worship service, the aria is the right length for a recital piece full of melody and giving the possibility to demonstrate line and technique. The tempo on Rilling’s recording is slow for my taste, challenging the singer’s support and breathing. While not today’s vision for a Bach alto, the earth-mother sound of Hertha Töpper (Richter) is effective with this text. She demonstrates great control handling a large voice, lightening up on the moving passages and very clean in articulation, especially given the prevailing style at the time of the recording (1959).

 

Atypically, the alto recitative comes after the aria – but the long text perfectly connects the aria with the concluding chorale. This very secco recitative has a distinctly non-Bach feel – contrast its mundane treatment with the sensitive setting in the tenor recitative. But if this was indeed written by a student, it says much that Bach let the efforts of a mere mortal stand without making alterations. Regardless of the hand that composed it, the last two bars (M.11-12) contain an excellent exercise for German vowel sounds:

 

 

The closing chorale offers a logical conclusion to the ideas presented in the previous movements. The melody for the hymn is traced to one Ahasverus Fritsch, a jurist whose prolific legal writings (in Latin, of course) languish in obscurity, but whose tune was given immortality by Bach.

 

The verse that inspired this cantata has special meaning for me: after my father’s death, I found among his effects a copy of Micah 6:8, which he had evidently carried in his wallet for many years. Would he have enjoyed Bach's choral setting of this favorite verse? Probably not without some instruction on Baroque music appreciation. Like many people, he didn’t “get” Bach and preferred easy listening supplemented by a few “classical” pieces (especially – remarkably enough – the music of Richard Strauss). Still, I’m sorry that he never had the opportunity to hear this cantata, in which the music so perfectly reflects and amplifies the significance of those profound words.

BWV 44 - Sie werden euch in den Bann tun

Week 44 (4 August – 9 August 2015)

Recording: Karl Richter, Münchener Bach-Chor/Orchester; Edith Mathis, soprano; Anna Reynolds, alto; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, bass

Some Sundays are definitely less fun than others. On Exaudi Sunday (from the Latin verb meaning “to hear” or “to listen”), the joy of the Easter season has ended several days before, with the Ascension. The faithful have been left behind – wanting to remain faithful, but uncertain what will happen next. For this Sunday, the Gospel passage from John talks about the martyrdom of these believers, words both depressing in their inevitability and eerily relevant to today’s world.

The cantata begins with a unique setting of the text foretelling the persecution of the Christians. An instrumental prelude features the oboes intertwining in mournful G minor, an echo-like pattern which will be imitated by the duet of the tenor and bass. In the KJV, the verse they sing is translated as “They shall put you out of the synagogues”. The Luther Bible is more general, with Bann possibly indicating a broader banishment or exile. Three repetitions of this statement are provided, with the character of a lamentation. All indications are these lines are to be sung by soloists (which is how most recordings have done it), although the balance can be tricky with the voices pitted against the oboes. Richter has the men of the chorus sing this short section, and they make a convincing argument; however, sectional voices cannot perform the ornamentation as cleanly as soloists, and the contrast between the soloists’ sound and the great choral entrance that follows is more musically and theatrically riveting. And this short cantata has an element of oratorical theater, perhaps because Bach had finished the St. John Passion not long before.

The duet and the chorus function as a unit, and need to be performed together. The attacca entrance of the choir replies to the prediction of banishment with the ominous statement of death at the hands of those who believe they are fulfilling God’s will. The interpretation of these words and music must evoke an atmosphere of terror. This is a short coro, requiring careful attention to text and dynamics to be effective, as the technical fireworks of many Bach choruses are set aside here for more homophonic writing. The short 6-measure sequence beginning M.25, where each voice enters a 4^th below the preceding line, is a concise lesson in fugue-writing. The repeated emphasis on Dienst highlights those who would serve, as opposed to their enemies’ idea of “service”.

With the scriptural themes established, the body of the cantata utilizes text from an anonymous poet, who provides workmanlike verses in uninspired language. The A-B-A alto aria uses a sorrowful verse referencing pain, exile, and martyrdom – the word Bann referring back to the opening line of the cantata. Although the A section is not too much of a downer, it’s maybe not the thing for a Sunday anthem, and perhaps it’s an aria that should stay within the cantata. However, it is an excellent study in both intonation and rhythm, with the tension between the predominant triplets and the dotted eighth-sixteenth figures (although not always performed this way, the manuscripts clearly show this notation). At a faster tempo, differentiation of these figures becomes difficult, but the tempo should not be too lugubrious as there are some long phrases, several on sustained notes that need to retain some energy even as they set on top of the accompaniment.

The tessitura is low, so contraltos will fare better here than higher mezzo voices, but working on blending the scale passages is again useful technical work. The singer should know the oboe part intimately, and modify the vocal timbre to complement the instrument. A frisson is achieved when the vocal line is clearly matched to the obbligato, and tempo is critical here. There is no shortage of excellent recordings of this aria: Anna Reynolds has a deep, rich contralto (and never needs to take a breath) in a recording that – except for some excessive rallentando at the end of the A section (on both occasions) – holds up very well forty years later. Helen Watts (Rilling) is also a contralto sound at a faster tempo and with rhythmic liberties – not the best model here. Catherine Patriasz (Herreweghe) provides a modern view, with a lighter voice, at a tempo that loses some of the subtleties. I prefer a more legato approach (even if that’s not “authentic”) – too much separation, especially in the triplets, seems to alter the mood of the piece.

The tenor chorale employs the tune Ach, Gott wie manches Herzeleid, which Bach would return to within the year as the foundation of his chorale cantata BWV 3. Listening to the intricate opening chorus of that work again highlighted the contrast with the simple vocal setting here. The vocal score on IMSLP has a fabricated accompaniment – there is only one slim line of continuo, so if you plan to sing this as a solo, listen to an exemplary interpretation like that of Christoph Prégardien on Herreweghe’s version of BWV 44.

A secco recitative for bass reinforces the worldly danger to the faithful. Richter has exemplary soloists – one reason his recordings are always worth a listen – and here for a few measures we get Fischer-Dieskau in his best Bach form, with a declamation that again shows the dramatic nature of this cantata.

Bach saved most of his inspirations for the technically brilliant and engaging soprano da capo aria, which is the one selection from this cantata that can be effective in recital (although the coloratura requirements are hefty). Despite the excellent musicianship of the boy soloist in Harnoncourt’s recording of BWV 44, it’s painful to imagine a child soprano tackling this piece – the necessary vocal technique to sing this long aria properly makes it a work for the mature female voice, such as the marvelous interpretation by Arleen Augér on Rilling’s recording. Particularly in the marvelously dramatic passages that depict the turbulence of earthly Wetter (M.36 et. seq.), the strings surge up like swirling winds, and a true soprano can ride this whirlwind to great effect, at full voice but without strain. This movement “feels” like a composition from an earlier time (perhaps Köthen?); it would be interesting to investigate this hypothesis further.

The concluding chorale is a melody used several times by Bach, and already met (with minor differences in the choral setting) in BWV 13. The well-known hymn has a long history, beginning with Heinrich Isaac in the 15^th-century, whose song Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen was later provided with a sacred text, O welt, ich muss dich lassen. The song Nur ruhen alle Wälder was another adaptation by Johann Crüger and Paul Gerhardt, published in the mid-17^th-century, and still in print in Bach’s era. Bach used a verse from Paul Fleming’s text In allen meinem Täten – which he would later use in its entirety for BWV 97.

 

Facsimile of 16th-Century Manuscript of Heinrich Isaac's Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen

 

BWV 44 concluded Bach’s first cantata cycle in Leipzig. Perhaps the gloom of the first part of this cantata speaks not only to the scriptural basis, but to Bach’s own frame of mind as he concluded his first year as the Thomaskantor. Week after week he had produced stunningly beautiful and impeccably crafted music – including a monumental oratorio – while balancing the varied demands of his position and attempting to cobble together sufficient resources to perform this challenging music. He was at the peak of his powers as musician and composer, yet his relations with his bosses were never easy, and the record is clear that there was little to no appreciation for his efforts. He may have felt a sense of professional martyrdom, as well as concern that he could be cast out at any moment. But…es gehe wie es gehe. The progression from the choral prophecies of doom to the sun breaking through the clouds in the soprano’s ebullient aria is characteristic of the master: despite any misgivings, he had faith in a higher power that all would work out.