Sunday Bach - Pentecost

In Bach's time, and indeed through much of the history of the Church, Pentecost was the major festival of the church year, even more so than Christmas and Easter. Why? Because Pentecost marks the birthday of the Church itself, when the disciples, energized and emboldened by the descent of the Holy Spirit, emerged from hiding in the upper room and went out into the world to spread the Good News. These days, and especially here in the United States, it's less so, mostly due to the influence of evangelicalism, which has that uniquely American distrust of any and all institutions and sees Christianity not as the Church Universal but more as a way to advance the "salvation" of the individual; for them Pentecost is a nod to the emergence of the Holy Spirit as another of those personal benefits of being a Christian.

But in Bach's time Pentecost was a three-day celebration of the birth of the Church, and some of Bach's best writing was done for this celebration. For this year's offering, I give you BWV 172, Erschallet, ihr Lieder, erklinget, ihr Saiten! (Resound, you songs, resound, you strings! Weimar 1714). This is one of Bach's earlier cantatas, composed soon after his election to the position of concertmaster in Weimar; he seems to have liked it very much, and revisited it five times in his later career. As befits music for the celebration of the principal festival of the Church, it's magnificently triumphant, with lots of fanfare and trumpets. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this wonderful cantata:

When Bach was Kapellmeister in Weimar, he was responsible for the composition of one cantata per month. In his time there he also wrote large-scale works for some of the major holidays, Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. The librettist for most of Bach’s Weimar works was Salomo Franck, who doubled as the court poet and head of the mint. Franck was the finest poet that Bach ever collaborated with, and all of the Weimar works are notable for their passionate music and high literary quality.

The work begins with a joyful chorus with orchestra of trumpet and strings. As is typical of Bach’s early works the trumpet parts are mostly fanfares, the chorus reacts with suitably homophonic music. A simple fugue comprises the middle section of the work. The only recitative in the piece is an arioso setting of the passage from John for the bass. This leads into more fanfares from the trumpets accompanying the pomposo writing of the solo bass. The idea of the heavenly wind permeates the tenor aria, with its smoothly running violin part and gently expressive vocal line. Without a doubt, the high point of the cantata is the intricate, heavenly duet for soprano and alto with oboe obbligato. The complex metaphors and high literary quality of this marvelous text are paralleled by the detailed and elaborate voice parts. Woven into this texture is a highly ornamented version of the great Luther chorale, Komm Heiliger Geist. A beautiful setting of Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, with a high, descant first violin part ends the cantata.

 © Craig Smith

Today's performance is from a recording by the Monteverdi Choir and the English Baroque Soloists under the direction of John Eliot Gardiner. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Creek

Branch Creek/Middle Spring Creek from downtown Shippensburg to Bard Rd. out in the country. Followed by the perfect music for following creeks - "Spring Water at Jerry's Run" by Malcolm Dalglish.

Photos © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Memorial Day

Today in the US we memorialize those who have been claimed by war. It's usually celebrated as a great patriotic event, with martial songs and chest-thumping nationalism, all about the glory of dying for your country. What egregious nonsense! As any battle-scarred veteran can tell you, war isn't glorious; it's a gory, bloody, loud hell of a meat-grinder, and the meat being ground is the young of the nation, fed into it by old men who hold grudges or who see a profit to be made, win or lose. I've always said that if the fat old men who declared wars actually had to fight in them, we'd have world peace overnight.

Here are some potent quotes about the reality of war:

"And I can't help but wonder, now Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you 'The Cause'?
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again."
– Eric Bogle, "No Man's Land" 

"Either war is finished, or we are."
– Herman Wouk, War and Remembrance 

"War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other's children."
– Jimmy Carter, Nobel Lecture, December 10, 2002 

"I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity."
– Dwight D. Eisenhower, speech, January 10, 1946 

"If civilization has an opposite, it is war. Of these two things, you have either one, or the other. Not both."
– Ursula K. LeGuin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Probably the greatest antiwar poem ever written is "Dulce et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen, an Oxford scholar and poet who enlisted at the beginning of WWI, and who was killed just one week before the armistice which ended it. During the war he wrote his poems in the letters he sent home, and as the conflict continued he used these poems to vent his anger and cynicism at the futility, the barbarity, and the stupidity of it all. "Dulce et Decorum Est" could just as well have been titled "The Lie", the lie in question being the quote from the Roman poet Horace that is fed to soldiers in time of war: "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"; the English translation is "It is sweet and proper to die for one's country". Obviously Owen disagreed, and I'm with him.

Dulce et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And toward our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obsceneas cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, –
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est / Pro patria mori.

Today we lament the deaths of young people killed by adherence to an anachronism, and pledge to end the scourge that killed them. Here are two songs that lament the deaths of soldiers - Eric Bogle's "No Man's Land" and Mark Knopfler's "Brothers In Arms".

Photo © 2009 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Sunday After Ascension (Exaudi)

Approaching Storm

Bach wrote two cantatas for the sixth Sunday after Easter, and I've chosen the first one, BWV 44, Sie werden euch in den Bann tun (They will turn you out...) from 1724. This is still drawing from Jesus' farewell to the disciples in the 15th and 16th chapters of John, and this week the reading emphasizes the trials and tribulations the disciples will experience from now on. Here's what the late Craig Smith and Ryan Turner of Emmanuel Music have to say about this cantata:

Sie werden euch in den Bann tun I, BWV 44 is the first of two settings of the quotation forming the text of the first two movements of this cantata, the other being the opening movement of BWV 183. In BWV 44 Bach sets the first two lines of text as a tenor/bass duet followed, without break, by a turba chorus.  Somewhat surprisingly, in BWV 183 he presents it quite minimally as an accompanied recitative.

The theme of this cantata is principally one of heresy, false teaching and the combating of these abominable doctrines. In John 16, Jesus prophesies the persecution of his disciples by those who know not God or Himself. There is a tough, almost hard-bitten quality about BWV 44. The clangorous, hectoring tenor-bass duet with two obbligato oboes runs directly into an even more frenetic little chorus filled with paranoia and fear. Notice how Bach creates a menacing chromatic texture of sustained notes underpinned by unexpected harmonies on the text wer euch tötet (whosoever murders you).

The alto aria with obbligato oboe yields a hint of release in the gloom and agitation with an almost catatonic dread.  The chorale for tenor and continuo is one of the strangest harmonizations in all of Bach. This central chorale is so forward looking that it seems almost to pre-empt harmonies of the twentieth century. As Julian Mincham notes, “there seems little doubt that the byzantine bass line represents the difficult road and the human effort needed to travel and surmount the narrow pathway of torment to heaven.”

The turning point in the cantata comes in the bass recitative encouraging the individual to prevail. The soprano aria weakly tries to emerge from the gloom with a brighter tone and employment of ebullient skips that Schweitzer calls Bach’s “joy motive.” The middle section, depicting the storms our troubled soul must weather, triumphantly emerges in the smiling joy of the sun.  The final chorale is well known, versions of it appearing in both the St. Matthew and St. John Passions.  This beautiful, yet personal harmonization of "Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen" is the only hint at a benediction in the piece.

© Craig Smith, with additions and edits by Ryan Turner

For this week's Sunday Bach I've chosen a special performance by the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists under the direction of John Eliot Gardiner. Enjoy!    

Photo © 2009 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Easter 5

Bach wrote two cantatas for Rogation Sunday, the fifth Sunday after Easter. We listened to the first of those, BWV 86, last year, so this year we'll listen to the other - BWV 87, Bisher habt ihr nichts gebeten in meinem Namen (So far you have not asked anything in my name, Leipzig 1725). This is also a small, intimate cantata like last year's, but a bit darker. Still, there's lots of musical beauty here. The late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music talks about this:

The Rogation Sunday cantata BWV 87 Bisher habt ihr nichts gebeten in meinem Namen is one of the most successful of the von Ziegler cantata texts. As is typical with this poet there are two biblical quotations, which generate all of the poetic text. The first is John 16:24. In it Jesus tells the disciples that they will soon understand the difficult metaphors that he has been using. Bach sets this rather severe text in a dense imitative aria for bass with strings doubled by two oboes and oboe da caccia. The duality of God and Son emphasized in the passage is ingeniously portrayed by the fact that the countersubject is a condensation of the last half of the main subject. This gives the movement a circular, layered effect. The continuation of the countersubject is compact and detailed. These three ideas are thrown into every possible combination and key. The aria has the effect of being a tight knot, which is gradually unraveled by the next three movements.

Von Ziegler finds the biblical passage alarming rather than reassuring. It sets off a warning to pray for forgiveness. The secco alto recitative is jagged and austere, as open and barren as the previous aria is dense. The following alto aria with two oboes da caccia obbligato is one of the longest arias in all of the cantatas. It is as if the breadth is needed to explicate the tough nut of the bass aria. The musical materials are complex. The continuo alternates between isolated eighth notes and a rising arpeggio figure. The opening line of the two oboes da caccia generates from the words. The aria is unusually chromatic, even for Bach. The sound of the two oboes da caccia with the alto is so ravishingly beautiful and the harmony so rich, that clearly Bach is portraying mankind's plight and confusion as unusually compelling. The shear repetition of the "vergib" motive is bearable because of the amazing harmonic detail of its context. This motive plays unchanged throughout both the A and B sections. Although this piece was written three years before the St. Matthew Passion, the scoring, the sound and the harmonic language are identical with the arioso, "Ach, Golgatha."

After the dank oboe da caccia texture, the strings in the following tenor recitative are a warm relief. The bass again sings the words of Jesus from John 16: 33 in a brief aria with continuo. Here the texture is much more open and overtly expressive than the beginning aria. Its placement between the string recitative and string aria of the tenor is interesting. The effect is of liberating the tenor to sing his ravishing siciliano aria. It is surprising to find perhaps Bach's most sheer and beautiful siciliano in such a dour context, but the effect is of a great weight being lifted off the soul. The potency of the aria gives it a climactic role in the cantata.

The harmonization of "Jesu meine Freude" is connected to the music of the opening aria. It is no accident that the bass line in many of its phrases encompasses the sixth leap that is the head theme of the first aria. This is in every way an unusual but absolutely top-drawer cantata. The combination of very short and very long sections is calculated and effective. The juxtaposition of the dense style of the opening with the arias is potent and brilliantly achieved.

© Craig Smith

Once again this year I've chosen a performance by the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra & Choir under the direction of Ton Koopman. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Easter 4

Bach wrote two cantatas for the fourth Sunday after Easter, also known as Cantate. Last year I posted BWV 166, so this year I'll post BWV 108, Es ist euch gut, daß ich hingehe (It is good that I go away, Leipzig 1725). This one digs deep into the concept of Christ going away so that the Holy Spirit can come to guide the disciples, with the text taken from John 16 and expanded by Christiane Mariane von Ziegler. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this cantata:

Jesus’ predictions of what would happen to the church and how his followers would deal with matters of faith after his departure are mostly dealt with in the Gospel of John. These difficult and sometimes esoteric concepts are the basis for most of the Sundays between Easter and the Ascension. The Sunday called Cantate has one of the thorniest readings in the whole lectionary. Marianne von Ziegler uses two extensive quotes from the designated passage from the gospel of John as the cornerstone of her text for the Cantata BWV 108.

The work begins with an elaborate aria for bass, oboe d’amore and strings. In it Jesus tells the disciples that it is good that he is leaving them; that only with his absence can the Holy Spirit be there. We have seen only a few weeks earlier, in the profound alto aria in BWV 42, the Holy Spirit portrayed as a vaporous, undefinable thing. The character here is more elegant, perhaps less warm than the previous alto aria. The oboe d’amore takes the lead with an elegant extremely flexible line, so highly ornamented and unpredictable in its direction that the accompanying strings can hardly keep up. By the third bar the opening statement has become mysterious and attenuated. It becomes progressively clear that the melody represents the Holy Spirit, something undefinable and later on clearly characterized [in the KJV] as “for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak.” This concept of the Holy Spirit as something that is a reflection of those who perceive it is central not only to the imagery of this cantata, but also to the very structure of the music. The actual bass voice entrance (the voice of Christ) is melodically so transformed from the oboe theme that one has a sense that the Holy Spirit has a life of its own. The oboe part becomes throughout the aria more and more ornamental and elaborate. The voice part only goes into melismas on the words “hingehe” (I depart now}, and “sende” (I will send him to you)

The tenor aria #2 begins with an agitated and vertiginous portrayal of the doubt that is eliminated later in the aria. The transformation of the opening theme to something much more elaborate, the 2 nd passage played under the long held “Glaube” (faith) of the tenor, is the central shape of the work. All of the passages on the words “geht du fort” have an ascending lift to them.

After a brief and didactic tenor recitative comes the centerpiece of the cantata. The 13th verse from the 16th chapter of John is divided by Bach into three sections. The first describes the coming of the spirit of truth to mankind. Bach uses a lively and somewhat awkward theme It is presented in a rigorously imitative fashion with the instruments doubling the voices. The second part of the verse is also fugal is the previously quoted passage about how the Holy Spirit shall not speak of himself. There is something almost jaunty about this theme. The third section says that the Holy Spirit will show you the future. It is surprisingly an ornamented da capo of the opening material, much longer than the original A section. This is one of the most mysterious and thorny choruses in all of Bach. He seems determined to hide its meaning. Its only real resolution is in the beautiful alto aria.

We have seen Bach occasionally use a very block like phrasing to present ideas of great clarity and simplicity. Perhaps the most striking example in the 2nd Jahrgang was the lovely tenor aria in Cantata BWV 93. Although the musical ideas in the alto aria here (#5) are more ornamental, it has the same clarity of phrasings, something that has been noticeably lacking in the previous three concerted pieces of this cantata. Although that clarity becomes somewhat and purposely clouded through the course of the aria it is obvious that he sees this aria as a resolution of some type. It is richly scored for strings, with such beautiful and full harmony that it falls as a balm on the ears after the chorus. There is a particularly wonderful spot where the alto sings an elegant, almost ceremonial, sounding line over a simple string accompaniment that really resolves our doubts. Later on when the alto sings rhapsodically of eternity the voice line crosses all of the phrases set up by the strings in a most creative way.

The beautiful chorale "Kommt her zu mir, spricht Gottes Sohn” appears rarely in the cantatas. This is one of the great harmonizations in the 371 and makes one sorry that we don’t see it more often. 

© Craig Smith

This week's performance is by the J.S. Bach foundation of Trogen, Switzerland under the direction of Rudolf Lutz. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Easter 3

Bach wrote three cantatas for the third Sunday after Easter, also known as Jubilate. Last year I posted BWV 12, the earliest of the three. This year I've gone for the latest and most glorious of the three - BWV 146, Wir müssen durch viel Trübsal in das Reich Gottes eingehen (We must enter the kingdom of God through much tribulation, Leipzig 1726). Listen to that magnificent opening sinfonia! It's the first movement of his D minor Concerto for Harpsichord, rearranged for organ and orchestra; it shows off both Bach's virtuosity on the organ and his virtuosity in the composition of works for the organ. This is just one gorgeous piece of music, and the rest of the cantata keeps up that high standard. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this cantata:

Bach Cantata BWV 146 is a curious amalgam of instrumental and vocal music. The first movement is a sinfonia that is an enriched version of the first movement of the D Minor Harpsichord Concerto, here arranged for organ. The second movement of that concerto is the underpinning for the opening chorus. An expressive alto aria with violin obbligato follows. Perhaps the greatest thing in this cantata is the lazy and sinuous soprano aria with flute and two oboes d’amore. This has a tone and color both sensuous and melancholy, unique in all of Bach. The big duet with tenor and bass wipes out all sadness in the cantata and ends the work with a joyous, upbeat quality. The chorale most familiarly known as Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring ends this long and impressive cantata. 

© Craig Smith

Today's performance is from a 2013 recording by Il Gardelino under the direction of Marcel Ponseele, and featuring the organ virtuosity of Lorenzo Ghielmi. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Easter 2

The second Sunday after Easter has traditionally been called the Good Shepherd Sunday because of the Gospel reading for the day, John 10: 12 - 16, where Jesus calls himself the good shepherd. Bach responded to that theme with three cantatas of the most pastoral feeling of all his works. The one I've chosen for this year is BWV 104, Du Hirte Israel, höre (Hear, thou shepherd of Israel, Leipzig 1724). This is a magnificent and beautiful cantata, and it's no wonder that the young Felix Mendelssohn was inspired by it to start what became the rediscovery and revival of Bach's music in the early 1800s. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this most beautiful and influential of Bach's cantatas:

The pastoral ideal is a significant and common occurrence in music of the Baroque. The twin concepts of the secular Arcadia and the sacred Eden not only stimulate the composer’s imagination but create a sort of nostalgic world that was a favorite of opera composers for the 17th and 18th centuries. This bucolic world doesn’t fit very well with the austere “Weltanschaung” of Lutheran Saxony. Yet several readings in the yearly lectionary summon up this important style. Obviously one is about the shepherds at Christmastime. The other spot in the church year is the so-called “Good Shepherd” Sunday. One of the most gorgeously and purely pastoral pieces is one written for that Sunday, BWV 104. This is a work that was known even before most of the cantatas were published. In the early 1800s a volume of six cantatas later to be numbered 101 through 106 appeared in Germany. These six pieces became significant in the Bach revival culminating in the 1829 performance of the St Matthew Passion by the young Felix Mendelssohn. Our cantata, BWV 104, was particularly influential upon Mendelssohn. The opening chorus is the obvious model for the chorus “He watching over Israel” in that composer’s “Elijah.” The Bach chorus is a marvel. Permeated with a beautiful and easy counterpoint, the spinning out of the fugue themes is both masterful and irresistible. Each of the three subsequent fugues is more ecstatic and passionate. 

The tenor aria continues in a pastoral vein but is darker and more colored. The chromaticism is so easy and elegant that it slips in almost unnoticed. Compound triple meter, a common characteristic of all baroque pastoral music, reappears in the lyrical bass aria. There is something more personal and dark about this aria that throws it in relief of the opening chorus. A rich harmonization of “Allein Gott in der Höh” ends the cantata. 

© Craig Smith

This week's performance is the benchmark recording of this cantata, the 1973 recording by the Munich Bach Chorus and Orchestra under the direction of Karl Richter, and featuring Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, one of the most sublime bass voices in the repertoire. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Earth Day 2020

Do you want to improve the world?
I don't think it can be done. The world is sacred.
It can't be improved.
If you tamper with it, you'll ruin it.
If you treat it like an object, you'll lose it.

— Tao te Ching # 29, Stephen Mitchell translation 

Photos © 2008 - 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Sunday Bach - Easter I

Bach wrote two cantatas for the first Sunday after Easter. Today's cantata is his earliest one, BWV 67, Halt im Gedächtnis Jesum Christ (Hold in remembrance Jesus Christ, Leipzig 1724). This work is based on a conflct - on the one hand,the glory of the Resurrection, on the other the doubts and fears of the disciples in the aftermath of the crucifixion. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this cantata:

Both cantatas for the Sunday after Easter are masterpieces. The earliest that we have is Cantata BWV 67, written for the 1st Jahrgang in Leipzig. The ambiguous and difficult situation – doubting of the verity of Christ's resurrection and hoping it was true – is perfect for a musical treatment. Contrapuntal music is perfect for expressing conflicting emotions, and there are several classic examples of that technique in this work.

The cantata begins with a representation, or rather a memory, of the Resurrection. For all of its vitality the chorus that opens this work is remarkably static. The fugal chorus is almost always used by Bach to promote conflicting and lively ideas. It almost inevitably leaves us in a different state than where we began. Here the chorus is a monolithic thing which provides a foil for all of the doubt and fear that follows. The chorus begins with a marching and grand motive in the winds and trumpet against sustained string textures. Three major motives emerge: a marching theme, a long held note associated with the word "hold", and a rising melisma associated with the resurrection. Bach achieves rhythmic and emotional liveliness without real thrust by limiting himself to a diatonic harmonic language. One can hardly think of a comparably impressive and rich chorus in all of Bach that is this uncomplicated in harmony. There is a glorious and moving breadth to the piece with the richness provided by the "resurrection" melismas rising against the "hold" long notes. The harmonic and dramatic shape of the cantata, with an important segment dipping into the relative minor of the tonic A major, is reflected by the shape of the opening chorus.

The tenor aria with oboe d'amore and strings begins with a confident striding theme that immediately degenerates into a stuttering and doubtful cadence. It is the perfect setting for the first line of text "My Jesus is risen, why am I afraid?" One is reminded of Pedrillo's aria, "Frisch zum Kampfe" from Mozart's Entführung with its similar combination of assurance and doubt. The next segment of the cantata is marvelous. In animated secco recitatives the alto leads us in and out of a performance of the great modal Easter chorale, "Erschienen ist der herrlich Tag." The chorale here has the congregational function of reminding us of our goal, but also reassuring the individual of his community. 

These two ideas, the individual doubt and the communal experience of the Resurrection, are the background for the great bass aria with chorus that is the climax of the cantata. It begins with agitated and blustery string textures in 4/4 time. They gradually wind down and a trio of flute and two oboes d' amore begin a graceful and piquant little dance melody in 3/4 time, which is the accompaniment for the bass voice of Jesus singing the words "Peace be unto you." These two radically different characters alternate throughout the movement. With the first reappearance of the agitated music the sopranos, altos and tenors of the chorus enter, begging Jesus to help them in their battle against Satan. Gradually the two kinds of music insinuate themselves into each other. In the last 4/4 time segment Jesus is heard "agitato" singing his "Peace be unto you" above the fray. In the final quiet section, the strings enter quietly under the wind trio, giving us the first tutti in the movement. The work reminds us of the middle movement of the Beethoven 4th piano concerto, with its "Orpheus quieting the furies" quality. The gorgeous harmonization of "Du Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ" is unusually simple and pure. There are almost no passing tones and it is the most harmonically simple of all of Bach's versions of this chorale. This cantata is one of the most extraordinary examples of Bach's ability to make a dramatic statement that is at the same time interior and profound. The sense of being in a new place by the end of the cantata without having made any outward journey is characteristic of his best pieces.

© Craig Smith, with edits by Pamela Dellal

Today's performance is from a Naxos recording by the Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart and the Bach-Collegium Stuttgart under the direction of Helmuth Rilling. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Sunday Bach - Easter Oratorio

Bach wrote five cantatas for Easter Sunday, but for me his Easter Oratorio, BWV 249, Kommet, eilet und laufet  (Come, hurry and run, Leipzig 1725) is the best. First composed as a birthday tribute to one of his patrons, he re-purposed and expanded it in 1725 as an Easter Oratorio. This is a beautiful work, by turns reflective and triumphant. And as musicologist Simon Crouch points out, it dances. Here's his commentary on the work:

It may seem odd to include a work titled as an Oratorio amongst the cantatas but there is considerable justification for doing so, if one considers the origin of the piece. The original composition was the laudatory cantata BWV 249a written for the birthday of Duke Christian of Saxe-Weißenfels. The music from this cantata was then re-used for a sacred cantata for Easter Sunday 1725. Then came the secular cantata BWV 249b for Count Joachim Friedrich von Flemming and finally, in the early 1730's, Bach revised the score of the sacred version, titled it Oratorio and gave us the work that we so love today.

The work opens with a wonderful two part sinfonia-and-adagio. The former is gloriously upbeat and uplifting, the latter contemplative and spiritual. An introduction that promises one of Bach's finest works. The excellent first chorus (originally a duet) turns the tempo back up calling us to contemplate the empty tomb of Jesus. In the first recitative, Mary Magdalene, Mary (the mother of Jesus), Peter and John bemoan their loss and Jesus's mother (soprano) continues the theme in her quietly beautiful aria accompanied by a fine flute line. In the next recitative, Peter (tenor), John (bass) and Mary Magdalene (alto) find the stone moved aside and the sepulchre, leading Mary Magdalene to understand what has happened. This introduces one of the highest points of Bach's inspiration: Peter's aria Sanfte soll mein Todeskummer (Softly now my fear of death). This is simply one of the most gloriously beautiful pieces of music ever written. A gentle and evocative melody woven through with delicate tendrils of accompaniment. The next recitative sees the two Mary's sighing in thirds and Mary Magdalene asks where Jesus is in her more urgent, upbeat aria. John affirms Jesus's resurrection in the final recitative and the final chorus ends the oratorio with a glorious song of praise.

This outstanding work is suffused with the spirit of the dance. The fifth movement is a tempo di minuetto, the seventh a bourée, the nineth a gavotte and the eleventh a gigue. In addition to this, the opening three movements may well have been adapted from lost concerti. Hidden delights indeed.

Copyright © 1999, Simon Crouch

I've chosen a magnificent performance on period instruments by the Netherlands Bach Society under the direction of Jos van Veldhoven for your Easter morning pleasure. Enjoy!  

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

The Effect of the City on Music - From Gershwin to Joe Jackson

This blog post is a prime example of where my mind goes when I'm off from work for a month with nowhere to go. I was reading the reviews for the movie Resistance about Marcel Marceau's involvement in the French Resistance in WWII, so I went to read about him in Wikipedia. While reading that article I found a reference to Red Skelton, so I followed that link, and while reading that article I saw a reference to David Rose's "Holiday for Strings", which was the theme song for The Red Skelton Show, a TV staple in my house in my childhood. And that set me off on a journey which we will now embark on below.

"Holiday for Strings" by David Rose

The reference to this music in the article on Red Skelton lit a lightbulb in my head because it played a significant role in my childhood. When I was five years old I came down with pneumonia and ended up in the hospital. Apparently I passed out while my father registered me at the front desk, and I stayed out for three days. During that period of unconsciousness I had a dream/hallucination/whatever that has stayed with me my whole life: a vision of two cartoon chipmunks, a boy and a girl (hey, I was five years old; what other symbolic figures did my brain have to work with at that age?), on swings, and the girl chipmunk began moving off, rising into the air, while that very emotional legato section of the music was playing. I had a very strong feeling of longing and loss at the time, and even now when I hear it I get that same feeling. And I still love that piece. Here it is:

"Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" by Richard Rodgers

That got me to thinking about other music from my childhood that had a strong emotional impact on me, and what popped up immediately was Richard Rodgers' "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" from his musical "On Your Toes". We had that recording when I was a kid, and I think it was my mother who really loved the piece. I got to love it, too, and still do. But thinking about it today, it struck me that both these pieces are very much "city" music, and specifically New York City. They reflect the rhythms and sound of a busy city, and in this piece even incorporating car horns and police whistles. 

Hmmmm... Car horns! Now who does that conjure up? But of course - George Gershwin! But first let's listen to Richard Rogers:

"An American in Paris" by George Gershwin

George Gershwin was the ultimate composer of city inspired music. He was a native son of Manhattan and you can feel and even smell the streets of New York in his music. And of course both David Rose and Richard Rodgers show the influence of America's first modern composer of significance in their music. Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" and especially his "Concerto in F" are very much New York pieces; in fact the concerto's working title was "New York Concerto". But for me Gershwin's most city-ish piece is "An American in Paris", and even though it's named after the city in France, it still feels very New York to me, full of the bustle and noise and "busyness" of America's city of record. Listen and see if you don't agree:

"West Side Story" by Leonard Bernstein

After Gershwin, no American composer says "New York" more loudly than Leonard Bernstein. And no work of Lenny's shouts "New York" louder than "West Side Story", not only reflecting the rhythms and bustle of the city but also the ethnic diversity as well. Jazz and Latin, Duke Ellington and Tito Puente, with a touch of the Great American Songbook - that's "West Side Story". Here's the prologue to the Broadway stage show:

"Black, Brown and Beige" by Duke Ellington

For me, Edward Kennedy "Duke" Ellington is as important an influence on American music as George Gershwin. Both were sons of Manhattan and started their music careers writing Jazz-based popular music (Gershwin started out as a "song plugger" in Tin Pan Alley) and went on to expand their musical knowledge and technique to create timeless music that goes beyond definable barriers. And both were outsiders - Gershwin a Jew and son of immigrants, and Ellington an African American and a descendant of slaves. But both rose to dominate the music of their time. 

After establishing himself as a major force in the Jazz-based swing band world, Ellington went on to compose concert music and movie scores. His three "Sacred Music Concerts", his Jazz concerto "The River", "A Drum Is a Woman", "Three Black Kings"... It's a long list. But for me the best of them is his "Black, Brown, and Beige", a musical history of the African American in this new world. Take a listen:

"Loisaida" by Joe Jackson

And finally we come to Joe Jackson. One of the "New Wave" or "Second British Invasion" Pop/Rock musicians, he came to fame in Great Britain for such hits as "Look Sharp" and "Is She Really Going Out with Him" (I love the first line of that one - "Pretty women walking with gorillas down my street..."). In the 1980s he started hanging out in New York, where he started absorbing that New York musical atmosphere that so inspired the previous composers in this article. Three of his albums especially reflect that "city" feel - "Night and Day", "Body and Soul", and "Night and Day II". There's a lot of Gershwin, Ellington, and Bernstein influence in these three albums, even though they stay well within a Pop context. But it's there, and nowhere more evident than in "Loisaida" (the Hispanic name for the Lower East Side, the main Hispanic center in the city). When I first listened to it I immediately thought of "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue", and in further listenings I could hear a little of the Ellington and Gershwin hints in it. This is definitely one of my favorite Joe Jackson tunes.Have a listen:

And there you have it, where my mind goes when it has nowhere else to go. I hope this has been as fun for you as it was for me! 

Photo and text © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Bach on Good Friday - The St. John Passion

Last year I posted one of Bach's greatest works, his St. Matthew Passion (BWV 244), for Good Friday. This year I decided to post his other Passion work, the St. John Passion, BWV 245. This was his first Passion, written for his first Good Friday after becoming Cantor (music director) at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig. This was his first version, in 1724, and he reworked this constantly through the rest of his career. Arguably the best revision is his second one in 1725, which is the version performed in today's recording. One of the best essays I've ever read for this piece of music is by American composer and conductor John Harbison, who has been music director and conductor for Emmanuel Music since the untimely passing of Craig Smith in 2007. I'm posting it here to give you some great background on this wonderful piece of music:

The Gospel of John, apparently the last of the four Gospels to be written (after 70 A.D.) is very different from the three synoptic gospels.  It presents a transcendent, mystical, philosophical Jesus, aware of the Old Testament prophecies and of his fate as a sojourner who came from above and will soon return there.  According to John, Jesus warns his followers that their eventual persecution will mirror his, and that it will come from their own:  “they shall put you out of the synagogues: yea, the time cometh that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service.”  (John 16:2, used by Bach as a text in Cantata BWV 44).

The Gospel of John, as it enters the Passion narrative, mutes Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem.  Absent are the “multitudes” mentioned in the other Gospels.  It then transcribes a three-chapter long instruction to the disciples, delivered after the Passion Supper that moves between the terrifying realities of a hostile world and the rapture of the world to come.  These chapters, all of which precede the beginning of the Saint John Passion text, hover over Bach’s composition.  With John:18, the tone of the narrative shifts to reportage: stark details, urgent pacing, stories intercut like film, threads dropped and quickly picked up.  And we notice the recurrent labeling of “the Jews” (rather than, as in the other gospels, “they,” “the crowd,” “the people”) as the enemies of Christ.  This is, at best, paradoxical, since Jesus and his followers conceived of themselves as thoroughly within Judaism, and since Jesus’ thought moves not only away from, but also radically back toward, the Law (“Did not Moses give you the Law, and yet none of you keepeth the Law,” John 7:19).  By attempting to transform Jesus and his followers into non-Jews, the book of John becomes a path to the racial caricatures in medieval passion plays, Hitler-era posters, and even a recent popular motion picture, The Passion of the Christ (2004).

Many mistakenly believe that the author of the last Gospel was the apostle John, referred to throughout as “the apostle whom Jesus loved.”  Others, because of the author’s demonization of the Jews, believe him instead to be a radical Gentile convert.  It is more likely that he was a Jew who initially expected, as did the early followers generally, that most adherents would come from within Judaism, and who was bitterly disappointed when that did not happen.  It is interesting to remember that one of the principals in the Passion narrative, Peter, the first pope, emerges in Acts as the staunchest advocate of keeping the movement strictly within Jewish practice, losing out in early church councils to the proselytizing instincts of Paul.

In performing this piece, and other Bach works based on John (for example, Cantata BWV 42 that begins with the fearful apostles in hiding after the crucifixion), it is valuable to try to understand something about the attitudes of both author and composer.  What is Bach’s stance?  He is certainly of his time and place.  He sets an inflammatory Reformation Sunday Luther text with vehemence in Cantata BWV 126, “Deliver us, Lord, by your Word from the Pope’s control and the Turk’s murders.”  In the texts from John, he goes where they take him, more with the instincts of a dramatist than an ideologue.  In the Passion, he invests fully in both the fierce irony of “Hail to thee, King of the Jews,” by means of a perversion of the most elegant eighteenth-century dance form, the minuet, and in the extraordinarily pliant tenderness of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus when they come to bury Jesus “according to Jewish custom,” where the Gospel writer suddenly reminds us that these events all transpired in the context of Jewish observance.

“About suffering they were never wrong, the Old Masters,” says Auden in his poem “Musée des Beaux Arts.”  And in an era when we confront torture as national policy, we must engage with torture as part of this narrative.  The recent movie previously cited reminds us that much of our modern artistic sensibility is numbingly literal-minded.  Bach seeks metaphors, and never merely the mimetic, for the extremes depicted here.  With the help of the strangely lurid aria texts, he forces us to look into our own inner abyss and suggests this might be the consequence of such a close view of the unthinkable.

   About suffering they were never wrong,
   the Old Masters: how well they understood
   its human position;  how it takes place
   while someone else is eating or opening a window  […]

Auden cites the obliviousness to suffering of the ploughman in Breughel’s Icarus, going about his business unaware of the distant splash.  Auden might have just as easily mentioned the three aristocratic men conversing in the foreground of Piero Della Francesca’s Flagellation, or the uninterrupted musicians of Donatello’s Salome.  Bach’s gambling soldiers, gaily dominating the sonic foreground, are part of that tradition.  As they shake their dice (in phrases fourteen measures long!) we are struck by how tenaciously the composers locks onto the smallest details.  The wood-fire,  the high priest’s servant’s name, Malchus – they haunt because they are so actual.  The name, the very specific weather report, the anxious interjections:  “and his witness is true,” “we tell you this so you can believe” – these are peculiar to John’s narrative, and Bach refuses to present them as asides.

But two climactic elements that Bach includes in the Saint John Passion are missing from the narrative in the Book of John:  Peter’s penitent weeping, and the earthquake marking Jesus’ death.  Bach borrowed them from Matthew.  In his third version of the piece, with scriptural scruples, he takes them out.  Then in the fourth version (this performance), the dramatist prevails, and they are back in.  The multiple versions (there is also an incomplete fifth version) speak of the composer’s difficulties in venturing upon such a large-scale project.  The magnificent second version, which introduces three elaborate chorale-prelude style pieces into the structure, represents the most drastic re-conception.  After reassigning large portions of it to the Saint Matthew Passion and Cantata BWV 23, Bach moves back toward his first, tighter conception, a series of cantata-like scenes, usually concluded by “simple” chorale settings, the whole framed by madrigal choruses.

The strangely haunted character of the opening chorus suggests the anxiety of the disciples immediately after the crucifixion (Crucifixion:  an ignominious and unexpected ending not yet illumined by Resurrection).  If before hearing it, we read this text by an unknown author (perhaps the composer), would we guess the desperate quality of this setting?  The final lullaby-chorus, its cascading bass patters, so similar to the conclusion of the Saint Matthew Passion of a few years later, but less able to suggest closure, asks for punctuation in the form of a chorale end-stop – tensions and ambiguities that remain unresolved even by an epilogue upon an epilogue.

© John Harbison

Today's performance is a live performance recorded on March 11, 2017 in the Grote Kerk, Naarden, by the Netherlands Bach Society under the direction of Jos van Veldhoven. This is almost two hours long, so sit back, relax, line up a beverage or two, and enjoy some of the greatest music ever written.

Photo © 2015 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Palm Sunday

Bach composed one cantata for Palm Sunday - BWV 182, Himmelskönig, sei willkommen (King of heaven, welcome, Weimar, 1714). This is one of Bach's earliest cantatas, and as such it's written for a very small chamber ensemble; the effect is very simple and very intimate, a surprising thing for the celebration of Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem. One wonders how Bach would have written this during the peak of his career in Leipzig. In any case, here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on the subject:

Bach Cantata BWV 182 was one of the earliest works written in Weimar and is thus one of Bach's earliest cantatas. It has a charming chamber-sized orchestration of recorder, one violin, two violas, cello and organ. The opening sinfonia has the sound of early morning about it. The recorder and solo violin trade off piquant dotted lines against the pizzicato of the other strings. The opening chorus is delightfully child-like in its portrayal of Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. The solo bass intones a line from Psalm 40 as an introduction to the stirring aria with the strings. The solo recorder returns as the obbligato to the poignant alto aria. This is the beginning of the transition of the cantata from the joyous entrance into Jerusalem to a meditation on the Passion. The continuo aria with tenor is a further passion-like piece. It would not be out of place in one of the Passion settings. After the penultimate            chorale prelude on the tune "Jesu Kreuz, Leiden und Pein," the light chorus "So lasset uns gehen in Salem der Freuden" ends the cantata.

© Craig Smith

Today's performance is by J.S. Bach Foundation of Trogen, Switzerland, under the direction of Rudolf Lutz. Enjoy!

Photo © 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 5

Because of the ban on concerted music during Lent Bach wrote no cantatas for the fifth Sunday in Lent, so I went trawling in his "unattached" cantatas and came across this, which may very well be his first sacred cantata - BWV 131, Aus der Tiefen rufe ich, Herr, zu dir (Out of the depths I cry to Thee, Lord; Mühlhausen 1707). This work shows his influence by Buxtehude, but there are some hints of independence here, a glimpse of the Bach yet to come. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this early Bach cantata:

In 1707 the twenty-two year old organist at Mühlhausen, Johann Sebastian Bach wrote what might be his first sacred cantata, BWV 131 “Aus der Tiefe.” It was probably written as a memorial for a fire in the town, so the text was based upon Psalm 130, with the addition of two verses from the chorale, “Herr Jesu Christ, du höchstes Gut.” The composer of course had many models for his style, most notably the distinguished works in this genre by Buxtehude. But already in this very young piece we see occasional glimpses of the real Bach. Perhaps most characteristic is the sense of symmetry in the form with the 2nd and 4th movements of five being solo arias with the chorale “Herr Jesu Christ” sung in long notes by an upper voice. These chorale organized movements alternate with free and sectionalized settings of the Psalm.

The scoring is characteristic for small-scale sacred concertos (as they were then called) of the period. Oboe, a single violin, two violas, one notated in alto clef, one in tenor, are joined by a continuo group consisting of a cello; perhaps, though not likely, a bass or violone that played an octave below; undoubtedly an organ; and here a bassoon, which sometimes plays independent lines but most often plays with the continuo group. The oboe and violin often play in dialogue or duet. They seldom double each other as is the case in so many later Bach cantatas. The violas are always accompanimental, although they sometimes double the voices. The bassoon usually doubles the cello-organ combination, although it sometimes makes an independent duet with the oboe. These scoring details are important to enumerate with Bach at the beginning of his career, because they would continue to be the norm. One by one many of these practices would drop away from Bach’s style, but many would remain throughout his career.

The piece opens with an expressive Adagio. Oboe and violin sing a serious and flexible duet. We already see here Bach’s taste for more active and more detailed bass lines than most of his contemporaries. This reflects Bach’s skill and taste as one of the masters of playing and writing for the pedals on the organ. His tendency to here the harmony from the bottom up clearly generates from his extraordinary capability to do anything he wants with the pedals. The entrance of the voices show’s Bach’s predilection at this period for mannerist text setting. This is style that Bach would occasionally return to, but for the most part soon abandoned.

Bach at this period is willing, even eager to indulge in a great amount of text repetition. This is something that would get him in trouble with the Leipzig performance of “Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis.” This cantata has perhaps the most extreme examples of it, and one must say as he begins the text in a more and more specific manner, that mannerism soon falls away. The music tends to fall in quite small periods. Often there is a tempo change for every line of text. The ability to make very large forms is here beyond him although the two chorale fantasias are interesting precursors to his manner in Leipzig. We should remember that this music is written before Bach’s discovery of Italian concerti grossi, an important milestone in his career.

The first tempo change in the first movement at bar 57 introduces an important Bach technique of the period, the block choral statement followed by an individual voice statement that is eventually treated fugally. Bach is not at this era a great, or at least sophisticated, fugue writer. The marvelous essays by Buxtehude in that form were, at this period, beyond him. Although there is a generalized very good sense of the mood of the text, individual lines are not specifically characterized. At some points Bach will seize upon an image and project it vividly. For instance the word “flehen” (complaining) is given a wonderful whining portrait with the echo effects. One would like to love the two chorale settings in “Aus der Tiefe,” for they are such a window on the future. But the text repetition of the solo is so extreme and really unvaried that they both can become rather tedious. Bach has discovered a way to compose a large form but really does not know how to use it.

The third number introduces another early Bach manner that serves him well through the early period. It also is perhaps the most successful section of the cantata. This technique combines long vocal lines, often chromatic in nature with small repeated motoric elements. This “prayer wheel” sound avoids the monotony of the chorale settings both by its harmonic motion but by the intricacy of its texture. This manner becomes more used and even more effective in some of Bach’s slightly later but still early pieces such as BWV 150 and especially BWV 106.

Cantata BWV 131 has a large number of slow tempi.  It is clear that Largo in this context is not so slow as Adagio, and really should be a rather moving “walking” tempo Andante. Allegro and Vivace seem to be used interchangeably and should both be quite brisk. Both chorale settings gain if they are not taken too slowly, This cantata has been quite often performed, but really is not nearly so effective as the piece that it most resembles, the Cantata BWV 150. There we find many of the qualities of this piece in a much more favorable light.

 

© Craig Smith

Today's performance is by the Netherlands Bach Society under the direction of Jos van Veldhoven. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Sunday Bach - Lent 4

There was one exception to the ban on concerted music in the churches during Lent in Leipzig in Bach's time - the Feast of the Annunciation of Mary on March 25, always falling during Lent (and this year being several days after the fourth Sunday in Lent). This was the celebration of the visit to the Virgin Mary by the Angel Gabriel, announcing that she would be the mother of the Messiah, a major feast in the Church and thus to be celebrated with great joy and festivity. So Bach wrote several cantatas for that celebration, and I've chosen the first, BWV 1, Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern (How beautiful shines the morning star, Leipzig 1725). When the members of the Bach Gesellschaft were compiling their definitive catalog of Bach's works they chose this glorious chorale cantata to be the first in the collection. They chose wisely! And there's another reason to pick this most magnificent of Bach's cantatas - yesterday was his birthday! So this cantata is most fitting for the occasion. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this magnificent work:

The Feast of the Annunciation is celebrated each year on 25th March and for this day – on which, as an exception during Lent, music was performed in Leipzig – Bach wrote this cantata Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern. The lesson and gospel passage for this day are closely related. The lesson – Isaiah 7: 10-14 – contains the traditional prophecy related to the birth of Christ: ‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel. The gospel passage, Luke 1: 26-38, tells how the Angel Gabriel announces to the Virgin Mary that she will give birth to the Messiah. The familiar chorale text by Nicolai is filled with the expression of abundant love for Jesus, and Bach’s librettist reworks the middle strophes in Advent-like anticipation of joy by focusing our attention on Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem.

When the founders of the Bach Gesellschaft were unable to procure the manuscript for the Mass in B Minor, their original choice as the inaugural volume in the publication, they chose ten of the most brilliant and varied cantatas to introduce to the world. Eight of the ten cantatas were from the 2nd Jahrgang. Our cantata here was the first. It was a brilliant choice, for the founders were dealing with Bach's reputation as a dry fugue writer. Here they have a piece with an extraordinarily colorful orchestration, based upon a still familiar tune, mostly happy and verbally unthreatening. The editors of the Bach Gesellschaft thought that their constituency would be mostly church musicians. Here they failed to draw that body of musicians in. Even a cursory look at the volume reveals not only many instruments either unknown or rare in 1850, oboes d'amore, violoncello piccolo, oboes da caccia. Even the modern equivalent of this last-named instrument, the English Horn, was not as prevalent as it is today. French horns were unused to playing in the stratospheric range of Cantata BWV 1. The imagined revival of this music in the churches of Germany never happened; it is still much more common in concert halls than in liturgies. Certainly the exotic sound of the two solo violins, the two high F horns, the two oboes da caccia, in addition to the strings and continuo, has nothing to do with the sound of the modern orchestra as imagined then or now. 

What is quite wonderful in either a period instrument or modern instrument performance of this piece is how well it sounds, how almost miraculously everything balances out, how, with a relative minimum of effort, every strain of this elaborate texture can be heard. This is not always the case with Bach's orchestration. Some instrumental and vocal combinations that were logical in the 1720's are now problematical. But here, perhaps the most bizarre and exotic combination of instruments in all the cantatas works well. Much of that brilliance is the perfect use of different registers for each pair of instruments. The highest register is occupied by the two solo violins, sometimes doubled by the rest of the strings but usually alone. The alto register is occupied by the horns. They are usually used in a motivic fashion, and while understandably less active than the violins are nevertheless quite agile. The tenor range is occupied by the oboes da caccia. They also play with great agility but often because of their range play in unison. The cantus in long notes for the sopranos is pitched quite high so never has a problem being heard. 

The chorale tune is one of two by Philipp Nicolai used by Bach in the 2nd Jahrgang. Like its companion "Wachet auf!" it is a large bar-form melody, although unlike "Wachet auf!" by Bach's time the last four phrases had been consolidated into two. There are four discernable themes. The first combines a theme derived from the chorale with figuration illustrating the "morning star." In addition an arpeggiated figure and a swinging tune and a descending figure all combine to make an unusually varied musical texture. This "patchwork" technique is useful to construct a large chorale fantasia. This is probably the thing that Stravinsky most liked about Bach. So many of his pieces are put together in the same fashion. The actual chorale tune in long notes is marvelously set up. It usually begins alone with the sopranos against the "morning star" figuration. When the lower voices precede the soprano they often sing the chorale, also in long notes as a kind of prelude. The only time this doesn't happen is the stunning last phrase where the three lower voices propel us into the chorale. 

Bach uses the oboe da caccia only three times with the solo soprano voice in the cantatas. The tenor range of the obbligato gives such color to the soprano, and the voice can easily soar above the texture. In the soprano aria, the oboe da caccia starts with a wonderful bouncy theme over pizzicato bass accompaniment. The soprano takes over the theme but is soon expanding upon and coloring the texture. Notice what happens on the word "flammen." There is something wonderfully adolescent and energetic about this music, perfectly depicting Mary. 

After a passionate secco bass recitative, the tenor aria brings back the texture from the opening chorus. Two solo violins play with the ripieno strings. This is a lively virtuoso piece, one of the most difficult tenor arias. It has a marvelous breathless quality that is supported by the joyous words. The reference to the "mouth and strings resounding" brings forth not only wonderful echo effects between the groups of strings, but lively interplay between the athletic tenor part and the solo violins. It is interesting how Bach is willing to write "instrumental" and "unvocal" voice parts and make them sound so good. 

The final choral harmonization is predictably rich. The 1st horn doubles the soprano with the 1st violins; the 2nd horn plays a lively and bouncy independent line. The two oboes da caccia double the altos and tenors with the strings. Once again, Bach gives us a perfect, skillful orchestration so that every line can be heard. 

~Craig Smith, edited by Ryan Turner 

Today's performance is from a recording by the Baroque Orchestra and Choir of Amsterdam under the direction of Ton Koopman. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 3

Before winning the post of music director in Leipzig, Bach held the position of court composer in Weimar, and in that town the ban against concert music during Lent apparently wasn't so formidable as we actually have a cantata written for Oculi, the third Sunday in Lent - BWV 54, Widerstehe doch der Sünde (Stand firm against sin, Weimar 1714/15). This is a solo cantata (for alto voice) and very short time-wise, although this doesn't rule out complexity and depth. There are some highly unusual things in this cantata, including chromaticism, dissonance, and a fugue with the voice as one of the elements. The late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music wrote a very interesting essay on this cantata:

At the beginning of his tenure as court composer in Weimar, Bach set several of the texts of J.C. Lehms. The Lehms texts are the most luridly bloody and preachy of all the Bach texts. They also have a raw power that suits Bach’s in-your-face style of that period. The opening aria of Cantata 54 is one of the most astonishing things in all of Bach. Sin is portrayed as a gorgeous, irresistible thing. One is reminded of the Andrew Marvel poems that refer to the jewel-like blood on the back of Jesus. The aria begins with a grinding and shocking dissonance in the orchestra. Gorgeous, lapping phrases build up like layers of velvet on this dissonant bass. The expressive voice part is like a rich, deep nap on the many levels of gorgeous chromatic harmony. Bach wants us, in this lengthy and incredibly expressive aria, to feel the push and temptation of sin. The lengthy recitative that follows clarifies his point of view. The fugal last aria is spikier but no less astonishingly chromatic. While this cantata is not very well known, it is a remarkable missing link in the Bach oeuvre and essential to our complete understanding of this composer. 

© Craig Smith

Today's performance is from a recording by the English Baroque Soloists and alto Nathalie Stutzmann under the direction of John Eliot Gardiner. Enjoy!

Photo © 2020 by A. Roy Hilbinger