Week 7 (12 February – 17 February 2013)
Recording: Helmuth Rilling, Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart/Bach-Collegium Stuttgart; Helen Watts, alto; Adalbert Kraus, tenor; Wolfgang Schöne, bass
The BWV 7 vocal score obtainable through IMSLP had been scanned out of order and at first I thought the end of the alto aria was missing – the melisma on verdammlich trailed off into oblivion. But all the music is there, and it was easy to re-arrange into the correct sequence. Wikipedia provided a link to an article in the Baltimore Sun a few years back that related a more interesting “missing pages” story. A NYC lawyer and Bach expert bought the manuscript of the organ part from this cantata at auction many years ago, knowing that several pages were missing. He had loved the cantata since hearing it while in college, and was in a financial position to acquire it when it came on the market (Bach autographs don’t go cheaply). In a remarkable series of events, a French attorney subsequently found the missing pages in a suburban Paris library. While the pages weren’t for sale, the American had a good perspective:
“Just pick it up and a funny electricity goes through your body. You are holding in your hands something Johann Sebastian Bach held in his…What I acquired was the privilege, the pleasure, and, above all, the responsibility, of being its custodian for a while. My father used to say '40 percent of something is better than 100 percent of nothing.' I have 75 percent [of this].”
The attorney is Teri Noel Towe, who among other pursuits hosts a classical music program on WPRB, Princeton University’s radio channel. In an interview for a documentary on Bach (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sY5dv2bpRbE), he shows this manuscript, flipping through the pages gently and with obvious reverence. But all I could think was – I can’t believe he’s handling it without gloves!
So what made Mr. Towe love this piece so much? Maybe he was a tenor, since the magnificent tenor aria is the keystone of this cantata. Even if you’re not a tenor, you will perk up your ears when you hear the almost modern-sounding sequence of minor-major-minor modulations that occurs throughout the piece in the orchestra, and in the vocal line at carefully selected moments, such as on the words erkauft and Zweifel. I haven’t heard anything similar in the Bach vocal works with which I’m familiar. The rolling triplets for the competing violins, as well as for the soloist, depict the miracle of baptism through the life-giving water: the washing away of sin; the connection with Christ (who receives the sacrament during his earthly time as a human); and the representation of the Trinity.
With skilled keyboard accompaniment, the aria and preceding secco recitative would make a bravura selection for church or recital for a bright, lyric tenor voice with flexibility. Adalbert Kraus, not a household name, does an admirable job for Rilling, making the most of those unique passages with exemplary diction and articulation. His is the kind of voice that “releases” creating a brilliance that works well in operatic repertoire. Both Kraus and Schöne had major opera careers in Europe, and not only their very disciplined and precise singing, but also their ability to interpret text theatrically comes through on this recording. I’m starting to be of the opinion that to be a great Bach singer you have to (a) play (or have played) an instrument – particularly a string instrument – to a high level of accomplishment and (b) be a great singing actor. It’s about the communication of the text – the cantatas were not ends in themselves, but supplements to the spoken word.
The direct address of the congregation through both recitatives and arias is especially obvious in BWV 7. The bass and alto arias function as mini-sermons to drive home the message. The bass aria is long for a church solo, and probably should remain within the cantata. The bass has perhaps a finer moment in his recitative, where at the moment he starts speaking Jesus’ words to the disciples, recitativo secco transitions to accompagnato. It’s a quintessential Bach detail.
The alto aria could be used as a church piece, and has several unique features. Consistent with its sermonizing text, there is no introduction: the concluding G major chord of the bass recitative provides your starting pitch for the statement “Menschen, glaubt doch dieser Gnade, dass ihr nicht in Sünde sterbt”. The brief orchestral passage that follows almost seems to function as an introduction for the aria proper. The tessitura is fairly low, even in modern pitch, but the music is idiomatic and flows easily. The big melisma comes on the word verdammlich, starting in M. 39; it can be broken for breath after the 4th beat in M. 40 if needed. Be careful to use the correct vowel pronunciation of the syllable pfuhl – [u] (“pit” as in the “pit of Hell”) – not exactly a frequently-used word in German vocal repertoire – to differentiate it from pfühl – [y] (“cushion”). Helen Woods’ sound as represented on Rilling’s recording is not the most beautiful, but in repeated listening, I came to appreciate the emphatic interpretation – as mentioned, this is a sermon – as well as her breath control and support. It’s not a bad model, although a slightly faster tempo may be more comfortable for most singers.
The coro, vigorously performed on Rilling’s recording, is book-ended by a sinfonia that, disassembled, rearranged and transposed, provides the underlying material for Martin Luther’s verses. In these, the choral writing brings to life the washing away of sin, the drowning of death, and in a glorious modulation into the major key, the gaining of new life. To diagram this movement fully would be a several-hour project in itself – so that will have to wait.
I feel like I’m leaving much undone this week, but the more you dig into these works, the more there is to discover and explore. Unlike Mr. Towe, I will never own this or any other Bach manuscript, but just to have made its slight acquaintance is better than not to have encountered it at all.
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