Approaching Bach’s work has always filled me with some sense of trepidation; I’m sure most of us struggle to feel worthy of his genius and the searing humanity expressed in his works; his music feels both untouchable and yet incredibly enticing; perhaps therein lies its ultimate attraction.
I have chosen to present a cyclical programme through the liturgical year covering some of the composer’s most iconic moments for the alto voice. Debate rages over whom Bach had in mind when writing for alto in his Leipzig cantatas. Given the ecclesiastical traditions in Germany at the time, the music was most likely performed either by one of Bach’s most talented young male students from the St. Thomas School, or possibly by a more mature male singer whose voice had broken and whom today we might describe as a countertenor or falsettist. Either way, much of the music Bach wrote for this voice is deeply spiritual, so much so that we must wonder whether he deliberately had in mind the tradition, famously articulated by theologian Theodor Schneider in 1676, of using the alto voice as the voice of the Holy Spirit.
We begin our programme with the earliest work of Bach which we will perform, from the beginning of his tenure as court composer in Weimar. Bach set several of the texts of Georg Christian Lehms, which are luridly bloody, and have a raw power that suits his style of that period. The opening aria of Widerstehe Doch Der Sünde, BWV 54 is one of the most astonishing things in all of Bach’s vocal output, with sin being portrayed as something gorgeous and irresistible. Beginning with a grinding and shocking dissonance in the orchestra, lapping phrases build up like layers of velvet on this dissonant bass; an expressive vocal line grows out of this chromaticism, with Bach wanting us to feel the temptation of sin. The lengthy recitative that follows clarifies this point of view, before a twisting fugal aria closes the cantata. 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.
Bach composed Ich habe genug, BWV 82 for the Candlemas service – the celebration of the presentation of Jesus in the temple, thirty-three days after his circumcision – on 2nd February, 1727. On a first hearing, the mood of the cantata may seem more sombre than celebratory, but the voice sings of its willingness, now that the Saviour has been revealed to the world, to depart the earthly life and hasten to find peace, through death, in Heaven.
Originally written with a bass soloist in mind, Bach later revived the work in several different forms: once, c.1730, for soprano with flute instead of oboe and in E minor instead of C minor; once in 1735 for alto, probably reverting to C minor and with the oboe as an obbligato instrument; and again c.1746 in C minor for bass and oboe. The use of the obbligato oboe is particularly prominent in this work, and the deeper coloured oboe da caccia – a peculiar instrument, curved in form and wrapped in leather, today mostly heard in the works of Bach, but originally more widespread in German-speaking lands – is used to particularly stunning effect in the second aria, Schlummert ein, where, along with the delicately dissonant appoggiaturas (found only in the manuscript oboe da caccia part), it imparts a dreamlike quality to the music in contrast to the plangent first aria and dancing final aria.
Vergnügte Ruh, Beliebte Seelenlust, BWV 170 was written for performance on 28th July, 1726, the sixth Sunday after Trinity. Bach evidently had an exceptional alto at his disposal around this time, since in the weeks that followed two further cantatas for solo alto (BWV 35 and 169) were also given. A further uniting factor of these works is their use of obbligato organ, either performed by Bach himself or perhaps a particularly talented pupil. Bach revived Vergnügte Ruh in the mid-1740s though at that time he decided to rescore the organ obbligato for a solo flute.
The epistle for the day’s church service was Romans 6.3-11 which says that through Christ’s death on the cross we are dead to sin. In the cantata the voice sings three arias which are all strikingly contrasted. The first aria is sweet and gentle in mood and tone and tells of the contented rest which will be found by the soul after death. The second aria reflects, with disquietingly angular melodies, on those hearts perverted by vengeance and hatred and is characterised by a lack of bass instruments, potentially, as suggested by renowned Bach scholar Alfred Dürr, a pictorial device used by Bach to suggest that the perverted hearts are without foundation. The final aria, in a similarly energetic vein to the final aria of Ich habe genug, expresses the Christian soul’s loathness to live long on the sinful Earth in order that it may find peace in its final eternal dwelling place.
Punctuating the cantatas in this programme we have two extraordinary orchestral works. The Harpsichord Concerto, BWV 1059r was created on the basis of nine bars, a work presumably unknown to many, as Bach left behind only a very brief sketch. However, these nine bars do correspond to another piece: the ‘Sinfonia’ of the cantata for solo alto Geist und Seele wird verwirret, BWV 35. This gives us a clue, for cantata 35 has the unusual form of a concerto. Equally unusual is the fact that the organ performs as a solo instrument throughout the whole cantata, so we suspect that Bach had arranged one of his own concertos here – and this nine-bar fragment supports that suspicion. So this gives us the first movement of a new concerto, and a third movement is soon found too, as further on in BWV 35 we come across another instrumental piece, once again for obligato organ. Requiring then only a middle movement, in this reconstruction Steven Devine have opted for the opening aria of cantata 35, with the solo vocal line taken by the oboe.
The Orchestral Suite No 3 in D major, BWV1068, is probably Bach’s earliest ensemble suite with a French overture. Somehow this work, originally tender in its address, seems to have been transformed totally through the addition of the brass and drums, but in this programme we bring it back to Bach’s intimate scoring. Easily the most famous movement here is the exquisite air, in which Bach turns a number of commonplace techniques (for example, the ‘striding bass’) to magical effect by his exact manner of combining them. The bourrée seems to demand a performing speed that is even faster than usual, and the final gigue is something of a swaggering affair, possibly also intended as a hunting movement. Its style is not that distant from that of the rondo themes of the hunting-finales with which Mozart would, over sixty years later, adorn his horn concertos.
As an orator and soloist the opportunity to explore Bach’s treasure trove of gesture and symbolism always unveils a myriad of possible readings, and as a chamber musician the unique challenge of these scores is the chance to embrace, and be embraced, as a collegiate member of the wider chamber ensemble. Performing with the glorious collection of musicians in this concert is like being in conversation with one’s best friends – threads ebbing and flowing back and forth like exciting ideas and fond memories, all with fresh enthusiasm at every turn. We are excited to invite you to join our gathering.
Barnaby Smith
(with notes from Leo Duarte)