After the Rains Comes Greening and Blooming

Heavy rains and warmer temperatures were the order of business for the last week or so, and the result was an outburst of greening and blooming over the weekend. This morning's weekly walk in the Dykeman Spring Nature Park yielded a treasure trove of color and activity, including a rare visit from a Pied-bill Grebe on the north duck pond. Come take a look.

Branch Creek is getting colorful

The Dykeman Walking Trail is greening up nicely

Crabapple blossoms along the trail

A male Red-winged Blackbird in the wetland

Spring color in the wetland

Spring along the banks of the north duck pond

A Painted Turtle in the bog pool

A Pied-bill Grebe on the north duck pond

© 2019 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 from a new offering from the J.S. Bach Foundation of Trogen, Switzerland, under the direction of Rudolf Lutz. Enjoy!

Photo © 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

More Signs of Spring

I went walking this morning to find more signs of Spring to shoot. I went up King St. to the Peace Garden in the Shippensburg Memorial Park; not much going on, just a few dabs of color, which I got. Then off to the path that runs parallel to the railroad tracks next to the park, where I got two more pictures, and especially the one of the Thyme-leaved Speedwell, whose flowers are only about 2mm across at most. Yeah, I did the belly crawl again today. Then back home via Westover Rd., where there's a Backyard Wildlife Habitat. Not much going on there yet, but I did get a shot of the Daffodil patch next to the sidewalk. Altogether it was a good hike!

A rock garden along West King St.

Buds on a Weeping Cherry in the Peace Garden

Flowering ground cover in the Peace Garden

The path paralleling the railroad tracks is greening up

Thyme-leaved Speedwell on the path

Daffodils along Westover Rd.

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

It Has Begun

"I stuck my head out the window this morning and Spring kissed me bang on the face."
– Langston Hughes

Yup, Spring has definitely sprung, and my weekly walk in the Dykeman Spring Nature Park certainly showed it. It's much greener now, and all of the Daffodils along the trail by the creek are blooming, as are a myriad small flowers that require that I do the patented Hilbinger Belly-Crawl to get a good macro shot of them. And oh look, it's Turkle Time! I saw my first-of-the-year Painted Turtle sunning on a stick in the bog pool next to the north duck pond. And to top it off, I saw this year's first Northern Water Snake in their favorite perch - on a branch over the creek. This was an older one; its signature brown bars had faded and it was a solid gray-brown, a sure sign of age in this species. Mama Gaia is waking up after her long Winter sleep!

Chickweed is growing all along the Dykeman Walking Trail

So is Heal-All

A Pussywillow catkin in full bloom along the trail

Daffodils along the creek

More Daffodils along the creek

The Northern Water Snake on its perch over the creek

A sunning Painted Turtle

Part of a large patch of Corn Speedwell on the berm around the north duck pond

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 5

Digging around in the Bach catalog because of the lack of cantatas during Lent, I stumbled across something interesting - BWV 71, Gott ist mein König (God is my king, Mühlhausen 1708). This was written to celebrate the inauguration of Mühlhausen's town council in 1708, and was the first piece of Bach's music to be published; in fact, it was the only one actually in print during his lifetime. This cantata is an interesting peek at his earliest work, and shows both the influences and intimations of things to come. Here's musicologist Simon Crouch on this cantata:

Gott ist mein König, a cantata for the inauguration of the Mühlhausen town council in February 1708, was the first piece of Bach's music to be published and in fact remained the only cantata to appear in print during his lifetime. It is also one of Bach's earliest cantatas. The work starts in suitably festive mood with a flourish on the trumpet and drums and a rousing opening chorus. The temperature immediately drops, though, in the first aria (a duet for soprano and tenor) and this is followed by quite a curiosity: A vocal fugue for the soloists that starts a capella and is only accompanied later by a subdued organ basso. This is a most effective movement. It is followed immediately by another attractive movement, an arioso for bass with very beautiful woodwind and continuo accompaniment. The alto aria that follows has a basically simple accompaniment but occasional interjections from the trumpet and drums lively things up a bit. We're then into the final two choral movements, the first a simple and beautiful melody with flowing orchestral accompaniment and the second a bit of a strange mixture that includes another vocal fugue for the soloists. This ending for the cantata always strikes me as being strangely low key.

Copyright © 1996 & 1998, Simon Crouch

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

Photo © 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Green

Spring is finally starting to show in Central PA. There were leaves sprouting along the nature trail in the Dykeman Spring Nature Park, and the Daffodils along the creek are blooming bright yellow. Take a look!

Sprouting Viburnum leaves along the Dykeman Walking Trail

Skunk Cabbage is popping up in the wetland

The Daffodils are blooming!

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 4

This week we're back to the usual for Lent - no cantatas written for this Sunday, so we go searching the Bach catalog for unassigned ones. And found this gem - BWV 21, Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis (I had much sorrow, Weimar 1714). Ostensibly, this cantata was assigned to the third Sunday after Trinity, because it uses the Bible readings for that day, but Bach actually wrote it as a farewell to a former pupil who had become gravely ill and was heading to a spa for the cure. It draws from earlier bits of his own work and got its inspiration from a work by Vivaldi, and uses a text by Salomo Franck. It's a glorious piece of music, starting off forlorn and sad and ending in a triumphant trumpet fanfare. Here's the late Craig Smith of Emmanuel Music on this great Bach work:

Several years into his tenure as music director to the court of Weimar, Johann Sebastian Bach was instructed to write one cantata a month for the chapel services. Near the beginning of this series Bach wrote what was to be his largest sacred Cantata, "Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis," BWV 21.  Not only was this work written to go with the readings for the third Sunday after Trinity, but it served as a farewell to the gravely ill Prince Johann Ernst of Sachsen-Weimar. The young prince, who had been one of Bach's favorite and most talented pupils, was on his way to a spa in Swabia where he later died.  Bach uses the main tune from a movement of Vivaldi's D Minor Concerto, Opus 3 #11, as the theme for the opening chorus.  The concerto had been a favorite of the prince and with its moving text describing a grave illness, the whole movement should be seen as an homage to the young prince. 

The work itself covers many different styles. The second and last choruses probably date from very early in Bach's career.  The opening and the great chorale prelude "Sei nun wieder zufrieden," were written in 1714. Many of the movements were extensively revised for Bach's first Leipzig Cantata cycle in 1723.  Certainly the work has a refinement and finish to it unknown in his early Weimar years.

The cantata opens with a marvelous sinfonia for oboe and strings. It is virtually a duet between the first violins and the oboe. After the complexity and density of the first chorus, the soprano aria with oboe obbligato "Seufzer, Tränen" is spare and startlingly angular. The tenor recitative and aria returns to the richness of the opening music.  These two solo pieces are set to texts of Bach's favorite poet, Salomo Franck. Franck was probably the best contemporary poet that Bach ever set; certainly these intense texts inspired the composer to write some of his greatest music.  The first two choruses are from Psalm texts.  Between the first and second parts of the cantata was a sermon with further commentary on the designated texts for the third Sunday after Trinity.  The second part of the cantata begins with a dialogue between Christ and the Soul. This was a favorite didactic device of Lutheran theology of the period. These dialogues are often associated with the erotic love poetry of the Song of Songs. A popular example are of this genre are the love duets in the cantata "Wachet auf!"  Today's cantata was one of the few Bach pieces in Baron von Swieten's library in Vienna. Clearly Mozart saw this piece there, for the duet is inspiration for both "La ci darem" from Don Giovanni and the third act Susanna-Count duet from Le Nozze di Figaro. 

The gigantic chorale prelude "Sei nun wieder zufrieden" is in a way the most ambitious and advanced piece in the cantata. It is one of the few chorale settings in the cantatas in which the darkness of the chorale text is undercut by the hope of the words sung by the other three voices. The sprightly tenor aria with continuo is a jolly interlude between the two monumental choruses that end the cantata. Trumpets and drums finally make their entrance in the last chorus punctuating the bravura choral writing.  The fugue that ends the cantata is one of the composer's most brilliant creations.

© Craig Smith

This week's performance is from a recording by La Chapelle Royale and the Collegium Vocale Gent under the direction of Philippe Herreweghe. Enjoy!

Photo © 2012 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 3

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 the day after the third 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! 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 of Amsterdam under the direction of Ton Koopman. Enjoy!

Photo © 2014 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Tapestry

Today is the Vernal Equinox, but things don't look particularly Spring-like around here. Still, there is evidence - Mama Gaia left this tapestry of Ivy on a boulder along the Rail Trail to let us know that the green is coming.

And here's a song for Spring from Peter Mayer:

Photo © 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Intimations

The Spring equinox is coming on Wednesday, and despite the general picture in these parts, there are intimations here and there that the earth will soon open up and Spring will spring forth. There have been Snowdrops blooming in a yard on my route to work for the last week. And today walking in the Dykeman Spring Nature Park there were more signs: birdsong is getting louder and more complex - Cardinals, Song Sparrows, Phoebes, Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Flickers, and Red-winged Blackbirds; the clumps of Daffodils along the Dykeman Walking Trail as it runs by the creek are finally up, and one clump by the red bridge is actually blooming; the Mallards in the duck ponds seem to be more brightly colored; and there are visitors from outside the area showing up, restless in the coming Spring and struck with wanderlust. Here are scenes from today's walk.

Daffodils in bloom along the creek

A pair of Mallard drakes on the north duck pond

A visiting Herring Gull on the main duck pond

Hills rolling into the distance, seen from the top of the meadow. They're not green yet, but it's coming

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 2

Again, Bach wrote no cantata for the second Sunday in Lent because of the ban on concerted music in church during Lent in his time. So we've probed the depths of the Bach catalogue for unassigned sacred cantatas and come up with this, very likely his first - BWV 131, Aus der Tiefen rufe ich, Herr, zu dir (From the depths I call, Lord, to thee, Mühlhausen 1707/1708). Like last week's offering, this music shows his debt to Buxtehude, plus shows the direction his own talent will go in. Here's the late Craig Smith on this historic piece of music:

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 from a 1992 recording by the chorus and orchestra of the Collegium Vocale Gent under the direction of Philippe Herreweghe. Enjoy!

Photo © 2017 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Marching Along

March is moving along toward Spring. No blooms or foliage yet, but the temps are warmer. With the snow from the three storms we had recently plus the torrential rain Saturday night/Sunday morning, the ground is definitely damp; even atop the hills the ground is squishy. And bird song is starting to fill the air - on my walk in the park today I heard a couple of Red-winged Blackbirds and Cardinals, as well as a Red-bellied Woodpecker. I also saw three Red-tailed Hawks cruising over the park, and a cheeky Mockingbird greeted me at the beginning of the nature trail; the little bugger even mooned me before he flew off! I kept an eye out for the usual Daffodils growing along the nature trail as it runs by the creek, but nothing yet.

One odd thing, though. One of the big old Norway Spruces by the south duck pond was fatally injured in that crazy wind storm we got last month; its roots were partially pulled up out of the ground but not toppled over, so they cut it down before it could fall over on somebody. Well, somebody put a shrine/installation/effigy/something on the remaining 5-foot stump - a blob of wax and pebbles splatted on the bark and embedded with feathers. It has the look of something out of Blair Witch, or from the M. Night Shyamalan movie The Village. There's just something very creepy about it, probably deliberately so.

After that it was hike up to the meadow to get a view of the area from the top of the hill. Even with snow dotted here and there, there's a Spring-like feel to it all.

This Mockingbird welcomed me to the park down by the ball fields

Cheeky little bugger mooned me!

The creek in the park looking downstream from the new bridge; you can just see the red bridge through the trees

The weird whatever on the stump of the Norway Spruce

Looking north toward the mountains from the meadow

The rolling hills of Central PA

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Sunday Bach - Lent 1

Bach wrote no cantatas for Lent as it was the practice in his time to have no concerted music in church during that penitential period. So as I've done in the past, I've gone searching among Bach's unattached cantatas. And I found this one - BWV 150, Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich (To thee, Lord, I lift up my soul, Arnstadt 1704 - 1707). This is a very early work of Bach's, and shows his influences, most notably Buxtehude. Here's Simon Crouch on this most interesting cantata:

Had I been asked to perform a blind identification of the composer of this cantata, I would have immediately said "Buxtehude". It's probably one of music's greatest tragedies that we have lost a vast mass of Buxtehude's choral works as well as much of his chamber work and only have the organ works to console us. Having said this, the catalogues that I have to hand show that this is not considered a spurious or even dubious attribution to Bach these days and if you listen to this cantata in the context of other early works (this is dated 1708/9) and consider that the young Bach was likely influenced by the older composer then you will probably agree that this is a very fine example of the young master at work.

This is one those cantatas in which every movement has something for somebody and the libretto is happily up the standard of the music! The work opens with a solemn string sinfonia which leads into a short opening chorus in the style of a motet. This is followed by a short and attractive soprano aria. The next chorus, also in motet style, starts with a bold ascending scale after which the line is handed between the parts most effectively. Unusually, the following aria is a trio for alto, tenor and bass. Next is a chorus with an attractive prelude which leads into a fugal section. The final movement is a choral chaconne. It is compulsory to go and listen to the final movement of Brahms' fourth symphony after hearing this movement. Brahms was one of the few original subscribers to the Bach Gesellschaft edition and was so impressed with this movement that he quoted the bass line in his symphony. All of these goodies are packed into a little over fifteen minutes. It's a lovely little cantata. Do listen to it!

Copyright © 1996 & 1998, Simon Crouch

Today's performance is from a 2007 Deutsche Harmonia Mundi recording by the Balthasar Neumann Ensemble and Choir under the direction of Thomas Hengelbrock. Enjoy!

Photo © 2018 by A. Roy Hilbinger 

Hmmmmm... I May Have Spoken Too Soon!

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'”
― Lewis Carroll

Yes, we're into March and it's still snowing. Thursday night and Friday night we got a gentle 3 inches each time, and then last night we got another 6 inches, snowing a little harder this time. It's quite beautiful today, colder with a bright blue sky. Today and tomorrow are my "weekend", so I was lucky enough to be able to get out and enjoy it this morning, going for a walk in the Dykeman Spring Nature Park, and I brought you back some of that beauty.

Branch Creek at McLean House

Feral cat tracks on the Dykeman Walking Trail

Walking along the Dykeman Walking Trail

A snowy Dykeman wetland

The north duck pond

A copse and its shadow on the snow up on the meadow

The mountains to the north from the meadow

© 2019 by A. Roy Hilbinger

Sunday Bach - Quinquagesima

Quinquagesima means 50 days before Easter; it's the last Sunday before Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, so people are eating and drinking to empty their larders before the penitential Lenten season forces them to partake of more plain fare. And in Leipzig in Bach's time. orchestral music like his cantatas was forbidden in the churches, so the cantata for this last Sunday before Lent would necessarily be fairly impressive to make up for the musical drought to come. Bach wrote several cantatas for this Sunday, including the two that were his audition for the post of Kantor at Leipzig in 1723, but this one feels far more celebratory to me - BWV 127, Herr Jesu Christ, wahr' Mensch und Gott (Lord Jesus Christ, true man and God, Leipzig 1725). This is considered one of Bach's greatest cantatas, mainly because he musically creates the picture of Jesus as both man and God. The late Craig Smith's essay on this cantata for Emmanuel Music is well worth the read:

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany in the 20th century Episcopal Church is known as Quinquagesima, the last Sunday before Lent, and as Estomihi in the 18th century Lutheran church. It was the last time in which any concerted music was heard in Leipzig until the feast of the Annunciation about five weeks later. The appointed readings for this Sunday in Bach’s time are both important documents and central to Christianity. The epistle is the great 13th Chapter of Paul’s 1st letter to the Corinthians, the familiar chapter about love. It is perhaps the profoundest thing in the Epistles. The Gospel is from the eighteenth chapter of Luke. It begins with Jesus announcing “Behold, we go up to Jerusalem.” The disciples do not understand the significance of that statement. On the way a blind man cries “Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me.” Jesus cures him of his blindness and they all continue their journey. There are several significant events here. Today’s cantata BWV 127 is mainly concerned with the dual human and divine identity of Jesus. The significance of the journey to Jesus’ final fate is always present, albeit here somewhat in the background. 

BWV 127 has always been recognized as one of the finest of the cantatas. The scholar Arnold Schering even went so far as to call it the greatest of all of the cantatas. There is a sense that Bach knows that this will be the last music parishioners will hear for many weeks. All of the Quinquagesima pieces go to great lengths to set up the important issues that will be confronted during Lent. That sense of abundance is projected from the beginning: two and maybe three chorales are represented in the opening chorus. The chorale “Herr Jesu Christ, wahr’ Mensch und Gott” both appears motivically throughout the orchestration and is sung by the chorus, led by the sopranos singing the melody in long notes. The chorale tune “Christe, du lamm Gottes” is played in the orchestra in long notes, first by the strings, then at various times by the oboes and recorders. A third chorale, “O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,” has been spotted by some scholars buried in the continuo line near the beginning. It is the kind of thing that you hear after it has been pointed out to you. The texture of the chorus is high, bright and dense. The dotted rhythms that dominate the piece are like angel wings, rather than aggressive. They are both static and they travel. The two main chorales so permeate the texture that one can hardly see any bar in the piece without them. Inherent in the combinations of both chorales and other materials is the possibility for great variety of phrase length. There are of course, many things that are sui generis about this chorus. One of the most remarkable is the associative way that an idea is begun and passed through the texture and then discarded. The ideas are always begun by the words. An example is in the fifth phrase of the chorale. The second statement of the text in the alto part introduces an expressive little half step. This is passed around all of the vocal parts and then to the instrumental parts. It disappears at the end of the choral phrase. The final phrase of the chorale is repeated at the very end with the sopranos leaving the tune and joining the commentary. It ends not with a long note but an almost unresolved quarter note. There is no orchestral postlude. 

The tenor recitative and soprano aria describe a sinner’s last moments on earth. The tenor with great horror and vividness enumerates the last terror, the chilling sweat of death, and the stiff limbs. He begs for repose. That moment of repose is the soprano aria. Two recorders play little repeated bell tones over a pizzicato bass. An oboe sings a melody of heartbreaking sadness and repose. The child soprano sings of the soul resting in Jesus’ hands, when earth covers the body. The B section begs for the death bells to call one soon. At this point all of the upper strings join in with the continuo pizzicatos. At the end of the line of text on the word “unerschrocken” the pizzicatos stop and the oboe like a tiny “last trumpet” plays a flourish up to high Bb announcing the awaking of Jesus. The gesture is so amazingly dramatic that one feels Bach has to undercut it by giving the aria a full da capo. A drama so profound needs distance from this kind of realism. 

The last large piece in the cantata is a complex and formally advanced vision of the last judgment. The distinction between recitative and aria is here blurred to the breaking point. The trumpet enters in fanfares over repeated note string passages as the bass in recitative announces the last trumpet. The motion gradually becomes calmer and the voice with continuo introduces an arioso utilizing the first notes of the main chorale tune “Herr Jesu Christ, wahr’ Mensch und Gott.” This arioso passage rather abruptly cadences into a vivid 6/8 picture of the last judgment with full strings and trumpet. What is surprising here is that the chorale arioso makes an entrance two more times in the last judgment music. Any semblance of recitative followed by aria is gone in this movement. Like the opening chorus, the bass aria comes to an abrupt close and the brilliant harmonization of the chorale ends the cantata. Cantatas such as this are so removed from the norm of either religious or operatic music of the period that it is hard to understand where they came from. Even such masterpieces as the St. John and St. Matthew Passion have identifiable precedents in the German Lutheran tradition. There is a way in which Bach would never reach this level again.

© Craig Smith

This week's performance is from a 1999 recording by the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra and Choir under the direction of Ton Koopman. Enjoy!

Photo © 2014 by A. Roy Hilbinger