Trinity 3: from Weimar, with love

12 Sunday Jun 2016

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according to Lutheran Church year, Alfred Dürr, Bach, Bach Collegium Japan, Barbara Schlick, cantatas, Christoph Wolff, Collegium Vocale Gent, Lutheran Church year, Masaaki Suzuki, Monika Frimmer, Peter Kooy, Phlippe Herreweghe, Rachel Podger, Vivaldi

Roman de la Rose, Netherlands (Bruges), c. 1490-c. 1500

Only three episodes into this special 1723 Leipzig Trinity season series, I’m already taking a detour to Weimar. It’s Bach’s fault, because, after the two newly written cantatas he presented on May 30 and June 6, 1723, he “recycled” his Weimar cantata for this third Sunday after Trinity: cantata 21 Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis, written in 1714, or possibly in 1713.

We dont’ know for sure why Bach chose to use an “old” composition this early in his first season (though probably nobody except his own family knew it was not new), but I think that he couldn’t wait to impress the Leipzig Council and congregation with a composition that was one of his all-time favorites. He had written and performed it at least twice in Weimar, then presented it in Hamburg or Köthen in 1720* and would perform it many more times in Leipzig on future third Sundays after Trinity. Another reason I believe it was Bach’s plan all along to present this cantata 21 on Trinity 3 in Leipzig: it seems to me that when writing the masterful fugue in the opening chorus of cantata 76, Bach must have had the fugue in no. 6 of cantata 21 on his mind.

Whether it was thanks to the multiple performances during Bach’s lifetime, or to Mattheson mentioning it (however unfavorably!) in his writings, cantata 21 was known among Bach’s colleagues and students throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, and is still one of the most well-known and most frequently performed cantatas today.

Instead of talking about the music, I would like to shine some light on the history of this cantata, and show you that it was not a stand-alone masterpiece that Bach created out of nothing. Most of the findings here below are from books by Alfred Dürr and Christoph Wolff.

There are parts of this cantata that fit extremely well within the style of the 1714 Weimar cantatas. To hear cantata 21 in this context, if you have time, before you listen to the sinfonia (no. 1) of cantata 21, I invite you to first listen to the sinfonia of cantata 12. They are remarkably similar. Next, just for the fun of it, you might want to listen to the “love” duet from Weimar Pentecost cantata 172 (beautifully sung by soprano Dorothee Mields and countertenor Alex Potter during a streamed concert from 2021)

	Soprano (Soul) Komm, laß mich nicht länger warten, Come , let me wait no longer, Komm, du sanfter Himmelswind, come, you gentle wind of heaven, Wehe durch den Herzensgarten! blow through the garden of my heart	Alto (Holy Spirit) Ich erquicke dich, mein Kind. I refresh you, my child
	Liebste Liebe, die so süße, Dearest love, who are so delightful, Aller Wollust Überfluß, abundance of all joys, Ich vergeh, wenn ich dich misse. I shall die, if I have to be without you	Nimm von mir den Gnadenkuß. Take from me the kiss of grace.
	Sei im Glauben mir willkommen, Welcome in faith to me, Höchste Liebe, komm herein! Highest love, come within! Du hast mir das Herz genommen. You have taken my heart from me	Ich bin dein, und du bist mein! I am yours, and you are mine!

and compare it to the “love” duet from cantata 21:

	Soprano (Soul): Komm, mein Jesu, und erquicke,	Bass (Jesus): Ja, ich komme und erquicke
	Come, my Jesus, and restore	Yes, I come and restore
	Und erfreu mit deinem Blicke.	Dich mit meinem Gnadenblicker,
	and rejoice with your look	you with my look of grace
	Diese Seele,	Deine Seele,
	This soul	Your soul
	Die soll sterben,	Die soll leben,
	that must die	that must live
	Und nicht leben	Und nicht sterben
	and not live	and not die
	Und in ihrer Unglückshöhle	Hier aus dieser wunden Höhle
	and in its den of misfortune	here from this den of wounds
	Ganz verderben.	Sollst du erben
	wholly perish.	you shall be given
	Ich muß stets in Kummer schweben,	Heil! durch diesen Saft der Reben,
	I must always be suspended in misery	Salvation! throught this juice of the grape
	Ja, ach ja, ich bin verloren!	Nein, ach nein, du bist erkoren!
	Yes, oh, yes, I am lost	No,oh, no, you are chosen
	Nein, ach nein, du hassest mich!	Ja, ach ja, ich liebe dich!
	No, ah, no, you hate me!	Yes, oh, yes,I love you!
	Ach, Jesu, durchsüße mir Seele und Herze,	Entweichet, ihr Sorgen, verschwinde, du Schmerze!
	Jesus, sweeten my soul and heart.	Give way, worries, vanish, pain!
	Komm, mein Jesus, und erquicke	Ja, ich komme und erquicke
	Come, Jesus, and restore	Yes, I come and restore
	Mit deinem Gnadenblicke!	Dich mit meinem Gnadenblicke
	with your look of grace	you with my look of grace.

Of course none of these are officially meant to speak of earthly love. But still, both these duets are extremely cute, musically completely similar to opera love duets from that time, and their texts could at least partly be interpreted as such love duets, so I can imagine the Weimar poet and the young Bach must have enjoyed writing these.

To really appreciate “the making of” the opening chorus (no. 2) of cantata 21, it’s worth listening to a magnificent Vivialdi violin concerto and one of Bach’s lesser known organ prelude and fugues, to hear where Bach found the theme for the Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis fugue:

In the spring of 1713, the half-brother of Bach’s employer in Weimar, prince Johann Ernst, “a great lover of music and an incomparable violinist” (according to a testimony by Philipp David Kräuter, a student of Bach in Weimar) went on a study trip, and spent a long time in the Netherlands. Upon his return, he had brought “much fine Italian and French” music with him. One of the pieces was Vivaldi’s Concerto in D minor Opus 3, no. 11 for two violins from Book II of L’Estro armonico (RV 565), published in Amsterdam in 1711.

Listen to this Vivaldi concerto in the award-winning interpretation by the fabulous Rachel Podger with Brecon Baroque on Spotify, or on YouTube

Maybe Bach, an accomplished violinist himself, and the prince played this together after the prince returned in July 1713. Bach rewrote this Vivaldi concerto into an organ concerto (BWV 596), but also used the theme in his organ prelude and fugue in B minor, BWV 544, written in Weimar as well. It is in this piece in particular that I can hear the relation with cantata 21 Dürr wants to point out in his book.

About recordings of cantata 21: While Bach Collegium Japan deserves a medal for taking the trouble to research all the different versions and record the ones from 1720 and 1714 on their volume 6 , and the true 1723 Leipzig version (with trombones added in no. 9 and solo/tutti distinctions in the choruses) on their volume 12, I still like Herreweghe’s recording of this cantata the best, mainly because of the strong, crisp choruses and the music always having long lines and strong sense of direction. Listen to Herreweghe’s interpretation of this cantata on Spotify or on YouTube.

Update from 2021: find an absolutely stunning performance of the 1720 version (with only soprano and bass soloists) on the YouTube channel of the J.S. Bach Foundation here.

Read the German text with English translations of cantata 21 here, and find the score here.

If you don’t want to miss an episode of this 1723 Trinity season series, please consider signing up to receive an email every time I’ve posted a new story.

Please feel free to share this on Facebook, or forward to anyone you think might enjoy coming along for this ride. Thank you!

Wieneke Gorter, June 12, 2016. Updated June 19, 2021.

*Bach visited Hamburg in November 1720, to apply for an organist and cantor post there. It turned out, however, that the post needed to be “bought” and the job went to a lesser talented but wealthy candidate. Most scholars are confident there was a performance of this cantata in 1720 in either Köthen or Hamburg, based on the surviving manuscripts of the parts. Because it was the Hamburg-based writer Mattheson who criticized the cantata in a letter in 1725, it is probable that the performance took place in Hamburg during Bach’s visit there.

According to Bach Collegium Japan’s leader Masaaki Suzuki, the 1720 performance featured only a soprano and a bass, with the soprano also singing all the arias and recitatives we know nowadays as written for tenor.

Season 1, episode 2

04 Saturday Jun 2016

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according to Lutheran Church year, Bach, cantatas, Harnoncourt, James Gilchrist, John Eliot Gardiner

The Parable of the Great Supper / the Great Banquet, by anonymous Dutch painter “the Braunschweig (Brunswick) Monogrammist,” ca. 1525

Trinity season in the Lutheran Church year means no feast days until Christmas, no stories about Jesus’ life in the Gospel texts, and no Vox Christi bass recitatives. To still keep this blog exciting for myself and you loyal readers, I decided to make it into a true weekly series, and will be following all of Bach’s 1723 Leipzig cantatas until Advent, without taking any detours to his Weimar cantatas or later Leipzig cantatas.

A few things that make it irresistible for me to try this: Bach started working in Leipzig on the first Sunday after Trinity in 1723 (see last week’s blog post); the dates of the Lutheran Church year in 2016 are practically the same as in 1723 – off by only one day; and I believe that by following this 1723 sequence, we can better imagine how it must have been for the Leipzig audiences (congregation) to hear one cantata after the other, and perhaps get a little insight in how it must have been for Bach himself to write one after the other.

So, here we go with season 1, episode 2:

Previously on Weekly Cantata: Bach arrived in Leipzig on Saturday May 22, 1723,, and made his debut with cantata 75 Die Elenden sollen essen in the Nicolaikirche (St. Nicholas Church) on Sunday May 30, the first Sunday after Trinity.

The second Sunday after Trinity in 1723 marked Bach’s debut in the Thomaskirche (St. Thomas Church). On Sunday June 6, he performed cantata 76 Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes there, and this one is even more impressive than 75, and includes a festive opening chorus which makes me think of Bach’s later Ascension Oratorio.

There are many similarities between cantata 75 and 76, the most obvious one being that they share the ambitious length of 14 movements in total, divided over two parts. From a superficial point of view, both cantatas start with a psalm text in the opening chorus, have challenging soprano arias, feature bass arias with trumpet, and -never seen again in later cantatas- an instrumental sinfonia at the start of the second part (after the sermon). However there are more (hidden) similarities and cross-references between the two, so that one could almost think about these two first cantatas of the 1723/1724 cycle as a diptych.

I appreciate Gardiner’s interpretation of cantata 76 the most of all recordings I listened to. And the universe will have it that this one was recorded in the Basilique de Saint-Denis (directly north of Paris), which was my subway stop for four fabulous music-filled months in 1994. In his journal from 2000, Gardiner writes that they were very concerned about the enormous size of this Gothic cathedral, and feared that a large audience (needed to balance out the acoustics) wouldn’t show up because it was the night of the France-Italy final in the Euro soccer competition. But everything turned out fine: there were more than 1200 people in the audience, and France won.

Listen to Gardiner’s recording of cantata 76 Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes on Spotify or on YouTube, or buy this recording on Amazon.

Cantata 76 starts with a text about heaven: the first and third verse of Psalm 19, Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes. To illustrate this, the heavenly trumpet (in cantata 75 not introduced until the start of the second half) is heard right away. The fugue on the text “Es ist keine Sprache noch Rede, da man nicht ihre Stimme höre” is fantastic, Bach at his best in my opinion.

After this, the text of the cantata refers to the Gospel reading of the day: the parable of the Great Supper from Luke 14: 16-24 about a man who has invited many guests to a Dinner/Supper/Banquet, receives one cancellation after the other, after which he decides to invite all the beggars and cripples his servant can find, and serves them the dinner instead, not leaving one place open for any of the previously invited guests. All this combined with the “Brotherly love” theme from the Epistle reading of the day: 1 John 3: 13-18.

Another example, though through a completely opposite story as the one from cantata 75, of why it is good to share food and love with others.

Besides the incredible opening chorus, the highlights of this cantata for me are: the soprano aria with violin/cello accompaniment (no. 3), the bass aria with trumpet (no. 5), the incredible sinfonia for oboe d’amore and viola da gamba at the start of the second half (no. 8), the dramatic, operatic tenor aria (no. 10, fabulously performed by James Gilchrist, including the “shake” Bach wrote on the word “Hasse”), and the alto recitative with viola da gamba (no. 11).

For those who have extra time: listen to the violin/cello duet in the soprano aria accompaniment in an unrivaled (as far as I am concerned) interpretation by Alice and Nikolaus Harnoncourt on their recording from 1976 (scroll to 06:11)

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Nikolaus & Alice Harnoncourt, 1951, before they were married, on tour with the Vienna Chamber Orchestra

Read the German text with English translations of this cantata here, and find the score here.

If you don’t want to miss an episode of this 1723 Trinity season series, please consider signing up to receive an email every time I’ve posted a new story.

Please feel free to share this on Facebook, or forward to anyone you think might enjoy coming along for this ride. Thank you!

Wieneke Gorter, June 4, 2016, links updated June 12, 2021.

The Leipzig Debut

29 Sunday May 2016

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Bach, cantatas, Carolyn Sampson, Daniel Taylor, John Eliot Gardiner, Mark Padmore, Peter Kooy, Phlippe Herreweghe

Lazarus and the Rich Man / Lazarus and Dives, Codex Aureus of Echternach, 11th century

On this First Sunday after Trinity (for short:Trinity 1), Sunday May 30, 1723, Bach started his first cycle of weekly cantatas in Leipzig. It was two days before his official installation, and one week after he and his family had arrived in the city.

Trinity is also the start of the part of the church year that deals exclusively with issues of faith and doctrine, instead of celebrating events from Jesus’ life, as was done in the period between Advent and Pentecost. This change must have been important to Bach too, because all three surviving cantatas for Trinity 1 are large-scale, musically ambitious works.

The composition with which Bach made his debut in the St. Nicholas Church (he would not perform in the St. Thomas Church until one week later) was cantata 75 Die Elenden sollen essen, a piece of considerable length, containing no less than 14 movements, seven before the sermon, seven after.

I prefer the recording by Herreweghe, which appears on the same CD as cantata 12 Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen.

Listen to Herreweghe’s recording of cantata 75 Die Elenden sollen essen (with soloists Carolyn Sampson, Daniel Taylor, Mark Padmore, and Peter Kooy) on YouTube

Purchase Herreweghe’s recording of cantata 75 Die Elenden sollen essen and two other cantatas on Amazon

Find the complete German text with English translation of this cantata here.

The text of the opening chorus is from Psalm 22, but it is strongly related to the Gospel of the day: the story of Lazarus (a poor leper, who lies in front of the door of a rich man’s house, asking the rich man for food every day) and Dives (the rich man, who ends up in hell when he dies because he didn’t share his blessings/wealth with those in need).

When I listen to the opening chorus, I keep wondering if Bach wrote a Kyrie in Köthen which he never finished or which got lost for another reason. This is not backed up by any of the commentary about this cantata, but in these first measures I can’t stop myself from hearing “Ky-ri-e-e-le–” in my head when the choir sings “Die-ie E-e-le–.” The music accents the second syllable of the word Elenden, while in the spoken language the stress would be on the first syllable. I find it strange that Bach would have ignored word stress in such an important composition, which he spent extra time on, and probably already wrote before he arrived in Leipzig (Gardiner notes that the paper of the manuscript was not from Leipzig, and that the handwriting was extremely neat). So I’m hoping something will turn up in my lifetime to substantiate this hunch I have ….

Wherever the opening chorus originated from, it is beautifully written, as are all the arias. The soprano aria has a tender, plaintive oboe d’amore accompaniment, the alto aria floats on a rich blanket of strings, and the bass aria is a show-off piece with virtuosic music for the singer as well as the trumpeter.

There is a symmetry to the order in which the recitatives and arias appear in the cantata which is rarely seen in other Bach cantatas.

In the first half:

Bass recitative – Tenor aria – Tenor Recitative – Soprano Aria – Soprano Recitative

in the second half this pattern is mirrored for the remaining voices:

Alto recitative – Alto Aria – Bass recitative – Bass Aria – Tenor Recitative

But of course it is typical for Bach to use mathematical design when wanting to make a lasting impression with a composition (such as with the St. Matthew Passion and the Mass in B minor). Also the fact that there are 14 movements to this cantata is not a coincidence: it is the sum of the numbers B, A, C, and H in the alphabet.

There is more symmetry in the cantata: The text of the first half refers to the Gospel story from Luke about Lazarus and Dives, and talks about earthly life and material possessions. In contrast to this, the second half of the cantata moves up to a spiritual level, and up to heaven. This change is illustrated by the introduction of the instrument that was associated with heaven: the trumpet. In the opening movement of the second half of this cantata the trumpet plays the chorale tune with which the first half had ended, Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan, and then later accompanies the bass in a stand-out virtuosic aria.

There is also more “showing off” in this cantata. As Gardiner points out, Bach seems to have wanted to make it clear that he was a skilled court composer (which he had been at Köthen before he took the position in Leipzig): after the French Ouverture of the opening chorus, all the arias together from a French Suite: The tenor aria is a Polonaise, the soprano aria a Minuet, the alto aria a Passepied, and the Bass aria a Gigue.

Wieneke Gorter, May 29, 2016

The Pentecost Treasure Trove

14 Saturday May 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in Cantatas

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A depiction of Pentecost from Herrad of Landsberg’s Hortus Deliciarum, 12th century

In Bach’s time, Pentecost was a three-day-long feast, as important in the church year as Christmas and Easter. There is thus a treasure trove of cantatas Bach wrote for these three days: No less than 10 in total! Several of them have trumpets, timpani, and more pull-out-all-the stops instrumentation, as was appropriate for feast days. They don’t get performed often, because Pentecost is not such an important feast anymore, and cantatas with Baroque trumpets and timpani are expensive.

I am busy with several other projects this weekend, so have to be brief in this post. For those of you with lots of time, please explore all these Pentecost cantatas on your own:

Whit Sunday [1^st Day of Pentecost]: BWV 172, BWV 59, BWV 74, BWV 34, BWV 218

Whit Monday [2^nd Day of Pentecost]: BWV 173, BWV 68, BWV 174

Whit Tuesday [3^rd Day of Pentecost]: BWV 184, BWV 175

(Thanks to the bach-cantatas.com website for this list – you can click on the links of the cantatas to find recordings)

As this was of course also a very busy time for Bach, he re-used some earlier work, but how he did this is remarkable. For a terrific example, please listen to cantata 59 by Harnoncourt (with my favorite boy soprano Peter Jelosists) and then to cantata 74 by Leonhardt, both written for Whit Sunday (1st day of Pentecost), both with the title Wer mich liebet, der wird mein Wort halten, but not with the same text. The first one is from 1723 or 1724, the latter from 1725, on a text by Von Ziegler. Listen and notice how Bach brilliantly re-worked the opening of cantata 59 (a soprano-bass duet) into the opening of cantata 74 (an opening chorus for four voice parts and full orchestra), as well as the bass-aria with violin solo from cantata 59, now transformed into a soprano aria with oboe da caccia in cantata 74.

Read the German text with English translation of cantata 59.

Read the German text with English translation of cantata 74.

Wieneke Gorter, May 14, 2016

Glorious soprano arias and unusual instrumentation

08 Sunday May 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig

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Bach, BWV 183, bwv 44, Carolyn Sampson, Christiane Mariana von Ziegler, Dorothee Mields, Exaudi, Gerd Türk, Harnoncourt, oboe d'amore, oboe da caccia, Peter Jelosits, Peter Kooy, Phlippe Herreweghe, Robin Blaze, Rudolf Lutz, Thomas Hobbs, violoncello da spalla

The title page of cantata 183 in Bach’s handwriting: Dominica Exaudi // Sie werden eüch in den Bann tun // à 4 Voci, 2 Hautb d’Amore, 2 Hautb da Caccia, 2 Violini, Viola, Violoncello piccolo e Continuo // di Joh. Sebas. Bach. Staatsbibiothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz

There are two cantatas for this Sunday Exaudi, aka the Sunday after Ascension, or in the practical reality of the man who had to write the music and rehearse the choir: the Sunday in between Ascension and the three-day-long feast of Pentecost. Because they refer to the same Gospel text, the cantatas share the title Sie werden euch in den Bann tun, but except for the fact that they each contain a glorious soprano aria, they have nothing in common.

I discuss both cantatas in this blog post. Keep reading for Cantata 183, but let’s first look at the one Bach wrote in 1724: Cantata 44 Sie werden euch in den Bann tun.

The soprano aria from this cantata, Es ist und bleibt der Christen Trost, sung by the amazing Peter Jelosits on the Harnoncourt recording from 1975 is among the most happiest music memories of my childhood. I suspect my mom loved it so much that she played it more often than just on this Sunday. I didn’t realize how well this aria is engraved in my brain until I surprised myself during a choir carpool, singing the entire thing from memory, illustrating a story about how some of these boy sopranos could sing very complicated arias.

Es ist und bleibt der Christen Trost,
The consolation of Christians is and remains
Dass Gott vor seine Kirche wacht.
God’s watchful care over his church.
Denn wenn sich gleich die Wetter türmen,
For even though at times the clouds gather,
So hat doch nach den Trübsalstürmen
yet after the storms of affliction
Die Freudensonne bald gelacht.
the sun of joy has soon smiled on us.

If you would like to listen to the entire cantata, I recommend Herreweghe’s recording from 2013. The opening tenor/bass duet is the best here, with bass Peter Kooij singing out much more than on their 1993 recording of this same cantata, and his and Thomas Hobbs’ voice matching better than his and Christoph Prégardien’s (as much as I love Prégardien’s voice!).

Also, Herreweghe’s interpretation of the soprano aria on this 2013 recording is the most musical and the most cheerful, not in the least because it has the highest tempo of all recordings I listened to. That this proves a bit of a challenge for the always fabulous soprano Dorothee Mields is only audible in the text: after she comes out of the expertly executed but super tricky long runs, she slips back into the edition she probably studied from, which uses the more modern “für seine Kirche” instead of the edition they’re performing from, which uses the archaic “vor seine Kirche,” so it ends up being a mix of the two texts. While this bugs me a little bit, a retake of the recording would probably have been at the expense of the magic that happens in this aria, so it is probably a good thing that they left it in.

Purchase the Herreweghe recording of cantata 44 on Amazon or on iTunes. (This album also features the beautiful recording of cantata 73 discussed here).

Find the entire German text of cantata 44 with English translations here, and the score here.

Thomas Hobbs, tenor (photo by B Ealovega)

Cantata 183 from 1725 is noteworthy because it uses a text by Christiane Mariana von Ziegler and features a striking instrumentation: two oboi d’amore and two oboi da caccia in the bass recitative; a violoncello piccolo in the tenor aria; again the two oboe pairs in the alto recitative; two oboi da caccia in the soprano aria; all these instruments in the closing chorale.

My absolute favorite recording of this cantata is the one by Bach Collegium Japan. They struck gold with this recording, thanks to the combination of Badiarov playing the violoncello piccolo da spalla, fabulous oboe players, and terrific vocal soloists: soprano Carolyn Sampson, countertenor Robin Blaze, tenor Gerd Türk, and bass Peter Kooij. I think the entire album (also featuring the recording of cantata 85 discussed here) is very inspired, and it has become one of my favorite Bach cantata CDs.

Listen to this Bach Collegium Japan recording of cantata 183 on Spotify.

Purchase this Bach Collegium Japan recording of cantata 183 (and 85!) on Amazon or on iTunes.

Find the German text with English translation of Cantata 183 here, and the score here.

Why is this scoring for the oboes so unusual? In Bach’s time there were “regular” oboes (to the right on this photo), oboes d’amore (with a bell-like widening in the wood at the end, second from left), and oboes da caccia (or “hunting” oboes, completely curved, and with a trumpet-like brass bell at the end, far left).

Bach often used the oboe da caccia, but only on a handful of occasions would he write for two da caccias. And even if he would write for two da caccias or two d’amores and “regular” oboes in the same cantata (or passion) they would not all be playing at the same time. On most occasions there were between one or two oboe players in the orchestra, sometimes three, alternating between the different instruments from one movement to the next. The only times Bach needed four oboists in one cantata, playing two da caccias and two d’amores at the same time, was in cantata 2 of the Christmas Oratorio (1734) and in this cantata 183. So there must have been some good oboe playing visitors in town around this time of Ascension and Pentecost in 1725.

The four oboes can be heard clearly in the alto recitative, where Bach has each of them repeat the four-note theme from the “ich bin bereit”-text in the vocal part:

When I hear this, I immediately have to think of the tenor recitative in Bach’s beautiful Trauer Ode, cantata 198, this time reduced to a 3-note theme and without the da caccias:

Or listen to this recitative from cantata 198 on YouTube

It is of course not exactly the same composition, but I wonder if Bach had to think back of this cantata from 1725 when he wanted to illustrate life and death in one and the same piece of music in the Trauer Ode of 1727.

After this alto recitative comes the most glorious soprano aria, richly scored with the two oboes da caccia playing the oboe part in unisono, as well as parts for violin 1, violin 2, and viola. Harnoncourt says that even though both da caccia have this aria written in, he says it is “clearly not intended to be chorally played” and on their recording they decide to have this part covered by only one oboe da caccia. Perhaps the original full score was not available to Harnoncourt at the time he made that decision, because it clearly says: “tutti gli Oboi in unisono:”

Screenshot 2016-05-08 12.34.13 — excerpt from the soprano aria from cantata 183, with Bach’s indication for “all the oboes in unisono,” Staatsbibiothek zu Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz

One would almost think Bach dreamt of all four oboes playing this, also the d’amores, but when his copyists double-checked with him, he decided that was just silly, it would overpower the poor boy who had to sing this, and they only wrote it into the parts for the da caccias (it says “Arie Tacet” in the parts for the oboi d’amore).

To learn more about Cantata 183, I wholeheartedly recommend you study with Rudolf Lutz of the J.S. Bach Foundation a little bit. Find a link to his fabulous (English spoken!) lecture and improvisation about this cantata in my blog post from May 24, 2020.

Wieneke Gorter, May 8, 2016, updated May 23, 2020.

A female librettist and an inspired recording

01 Sunday May 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig

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Bach, cantatas, Christiane Mariana von Ziegler, John Eliot Gardiner

In 1725, between Easter and Pentecost, Bach set nine cantatas in a row to texts by Christiane Mariana von Ziegler (1695–1760). And it is in part thanks to her poetry that I’m favoring the cantata from 1725 over the one from 1724 for this “Rogate” Sunday – the fifth Sunday after Easter.

This cantata 87 from 1725, Bisher habt ihr nichts gebeten in meinem Namen, contains two jewels of arias: the alto aria (no 2) and the tenor aria (no 6). Von Ziegler’s poetry combined with Bach’s sublime scoring in those arias completely knocked me over when I first listened to this cantata this week. I found Gardiner’s recording of this cantata (which I happened upon by accident – read more about this at the very end of this post) the most moving.

Listen to Gardiner’s recording of cantata 87 on Spotify.

Listen to Gardiner’s recording of cantata 87 on YouTube (there might be some ads in here – you can click to skip them after a few seconds).

Buy Gardiner’s live recording of cantata 86 and 87 on Amazon

(This album is absolutely worth purchasing – cantata 86 is beautiful too, and the violin accompaniment in the alto aria of that cantata 86 on this recording is the best)

About Christiane Mariana von Ziegler: A female librettist, who didn’t have to hide behind a male alias to get recognition or to get her works published? In 18th century Leipzig? When I first heard about this I could not believe it. But it turns out that by unusual circumstances, Christiane Mariane von Ziegler was as “free” as probably no other woman at that time was, at least between 1722 and 1741.

In that time period, there was no husband or other male relative by whose rules she had to live: her father had been in jail since she was 11, she had been twice widowed, and had lost both her children (one from each marriage). Despite all this, she was still in possession of her family’s house and fortune, and was well respected in Leipzig society. She wrote poetry, sang, and played many musical instruments. In 1722 (at age 27) she was appointed the official guardian of her family’s household, a position normally never awarded to a woman. For the next two decades her house served as the salon where many artists and intellectuals could meet. She would promote artists, poets and writers, and introduce them to representatives of the university who also attended her events.

In 1730, Von Ziegler became the first and only female member of Gottsched’s German Literary Society. She was named “poet laureate,” crowned by the emperor in 1733. In 1732 and 1734 she received the poetry prize from the German Literary Society. Her last published work appeared in 1739. In 1741, she married Professor Balthasar von Steinwehr and lived with him in Frankfurt an der Oder until her death in 1760. As far as we know, she did not write anything in this last period of her life.

In 1728, she published Versuch in gebundener Schreib=Art, which contains the texts for the nine 1725 Bach Cantatas (103, 108, 87, 128, 183, 74, 68, 175, 176). In 1729 she published In Gebundener Schreib-Art: Anderer und letzter Theil, which contains the rest of a complete yearly cantata cycle which Bach never set to music.

Since there is no correspondence between Von Ziegler and Bach left to us, we don’t know why they started working together, we don’t know why the working relationship ended, nor why Bach never used the other texts she had provided for the rest of the cantata cycle. There are some theories that she must have been vexed about Bach altering her texts on several occasions in 1725. However, the only proof we have for what her “original” texts would have been are her publications from several years later. She might have changed them herself between Bach first using them and her later publishing them. We do know that Bach first worked with Picander, the poet with whom he would later collaborate extensively (including for the St. Matthew Passion) in February 1725.

Back to this cantata. It was Bach’s life goal to not only praise God, but also educate “his neighbor” (the congregation, his fellow believers) with his church music, and it seems that Von Ziegler definitely shared this vision. To not make this post too long, I’ll only highlight the alto aria, since it is the piece that impressed me most, but the rest of the cantata is well worth listening to, especially the tenor aria.

The Gospel reading for this Sunday was the last part of Jesus’ speech to his disciples, from John. Note verse 24 (quoted in the bass arioso opening) and the overall stress on speaking in proverbs versus speaking plainly.

23. Und an demselbigen Tage werdet ihr mich nichts fragen. Wahrlich, wahrlich, ich sage euch: So ihr den Vater etwas bitten werdet in meinen Namen,so wird er’s euch geben.	[23] And in that day ye shall ask me nothing. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you.
24. Bisher habt ihr nichts gebeten in meinem Namen. Bittet, so werdet ihr nehmen, daß eure Freude vollkommen sei.	[24] Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.
25. Solches hab’ ich zu euch durch Sprichwörter geredet. Es kommt aber die Zeit, daß ich nicht mehr durch Sprichwörter mit euch reden werde, sonderneuch frei heraus verkündigen von meinem Vater.	[25] These things have I spoken unto you in proverbs: but the time cometh, when I shall no more speak unto you in proverbs, but I shall shew you plainly of the Father.
26. An demselbigen Tage werdet ihr bitten in meinem Namen. Und ich sage euch nicht, daß ich den Vater für euch bitten will;	[26] At that day ye shall ask in my name: and I say not unto you, that I will pray the Father for you:
27. denn er selbst, der Vater, hat euch lieb, darum daß ihr mich liebet und glaubet, daß ich von GOtt ausgegangen bin.	[27] For the Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God.
28. Ich bin vom Vater ausgegangen und kommen in die Welt; wiederum verlasse ich die Welt und gehe zum Vater.	[28] I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world: again, I leave the world, and go to the Father.
29. Sprechen zu ihm seine Jünger: Siehe, nun redest du frei heraus und sagest kein Sprichwort.	[29] His disciples said unto him, Lo, now speakest thou plainly, and speakest no proverb.
30. Nun wissen wir, daß du alle Dinge weißt und bedarfst nicht, daß dich jemand frage. Darum glauben wir, daß du von GOtt ausgegangen bist.	[30] Now are we sure that thou knowest all things, and needest not that any man should ask thee: by this we believe that thou camest forth from God.

After the Vox Christi bass arioso opening (beautifully scored as an opening “chorus” for strings, oboes, and bass voice), Von Ziegler doesn’t hold back in communicating what the believers should take away from this lesson, and writes this text for the alto recitative:

O Wort, das Geist und Seel erschreckt!
O word, that terrifies spirit and soul!
Ihr Menschen, merkt den Zuruf, was dahinter steckt!
You people, notice the call hidden behind these words!
Ihr habt Gesetz und Evangelium vorsätzlich übertreten;
You have deliberately transgressed the law and gospel;
Und dies möcht’ ihr ungesäumt in Buß und Andacht beten.
And because of this you should pray without delay in repentance and devotion.

And then gives them the prayer they should be saying in the alto aria, and this is the part that bowled me over, because of the combination of the music, the text, and the humble interpretation of it on the Gardiner recording:

Vergib, o Vater, unsre Schuld
Forgive, O Father, our guilt
Und habe noch mit uns Geduld,
and still have patience with us,
Wenn wird in Andacht beten
when we devoutly pray
Und sagen: Herr, auf dein Geheiß,
and say: Lord, at your command,
Ach, rede nicht mehr sprichwortsweis,
Ah, speak no more proverbs,
Hilf uns vielmehr vertreten.
Instead help us represent ourselves.

Here’s the story of how I happened upon the Gardiner recording of this cantata, and this aria in particular: I was only familiar with cantata 86, not with 87. When comparing several recordings of the alto aria in cantata 86 (because of the stunningly beautiful and very virtuosic violin accompaniment), I decided I liked the violin playing on Gardiner’s recording the best. Satisfied that I had found this and knew what my blog post was going to be about, I took a break while letting the album play, and of course cantata 87 was next. I was on the floor on my yoga mat, just lying there, letting the music wash over me, unable to do anything else.

I am rarely so physically moved by a Gardiner recording, so I went and looked up his journal of the live performances (and recordings) in question, and found this:

“In addition to our habitual position of “bringing coals to Newcastle,” the potential impertinence of interpreting Bach to the Germans, we faced the far pricklier issue of performing Bach in the city [Dresden] whose cultural treasure had been wantonly destroyed by British bombs in one mad night towards the end of the war and with colossal loss of life.”

So there it was: the prayer for forgiveness and better representation had been as meaningful to the British musicians in the German city at the time of this recording as it was to me this week.

Wieneke Gorter, May 1, 2016, links updated May 19, 2024.

When good fortune smiles – beware!

24 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig

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Amsterdam Baroque Choir, Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra, Bach, Bernhard Landauer, cantatas, Crhistoph Prégardien, Ton Koopman

Allegory of Vanity, Antionio de Pereda, between 1632 and 1636

Bach wrote cantata 166 Wo gehest du hin? in 1724 for the fourth Sunday after Easter, or Cantate Sunday. I recommend listening to Koopman’s recording of the cantata. I appreciate his choices of tempo and his decision to use five voices instead of just one for the soprano chorale. Also, the tenor and alto arias are absolutely marvelous.

We are now much closer to Ascension than to Easter in the Lutheran Church year, so there is definitely some of the despair about Jesus’ imminent departure in text and music. This time the text focuses more than last week on the actual “going away,” and what that means for the disciples / the believers.

However, it is Cantate Sunday, and of course Bach could not leave that alone. He uses several terrific examples of what “singing” can mean in his church music: a Vox Christi (a bass voice representing Jesus) arioso as opening, a beautiful tenor aria, a soprano chorale, and then a piece of opera for the alto. In the cantata he wrote for this same Sunday the next year, he even includes a bit of polyphonic choral motet-writing in the middle. (cantata 108, Est ist euch gut, das ich hingehe).

The bass arioso quotes only the Wo gehest du hin? from the Gospel text (John 16):

5. Nun aber gehe ich hin zu dem, der mich gesandt hat; und niemand unter euch fraget mich: Wo gehest du hin?

[5] But now I go my way to him that sent me; and none of you asketh me, Whither goest thou?

The text of the tenor aria elaborates on this, focusing on heaven, where Jesus is going, versus world, or life on earth, that man has to do something with. Interestingly, the title of the lost Weimar cantata for this Sunday is Leb ich oder leb ich nicht (To be or not to be, freely translated).

Ich will an den Himmel denken
I want to think of heaven
Und der Welt mein Herz nicht schenken.
and not give away my heart to the world.
Denn ich gehe oder stehe,
For whether I go or stand still
So liegt mir die Frag im Sinn:
I have this question in my mind:
Mensch, ach Mensch, wo gehst du hin?
Man, ah man, where are you going?

I love this aria. It is one of the many examples in Bach cantatas where the tenor aria is a perfect trio sonata, and I adore this soloist: Christoph Prégardien.

The soprano chorale answers the last question of the tenor aria (and perhaps also the question asked in the bass arioso) with a firm answer from the Christian(s) that they want to stay on the path to Christ, to heaven. Koopman’s choice to have this sung by the entire soprano section of the Amsterdam Baroque Choir is brilliant. Not only do the five sopranos (Vera Lansink, Caroline Stam, Francine van der Heijden, Annemieke Rademaker, and Melanie Greve) sound wonderful together, it is also a better balance with the string accompaniment, played unisono by the violins and violas.

Ich bitte dich, Herr Jesu Christ,
I ask you, Lord Jesus Christ,
Halt mich bei den Gedanken
keep me in your thoughts
Und lass mich ja zu keiner Frist
and do not let me at any time
Von dieser Meinung wanken,
falter in this purpose,
Sondern dabei verharren fest,
but instead let me firmly persevere
Bis dass die Seel aus ihrem Nest
until my soul from its nest
Wird in den Himmel kommen.
shall go to heaven.

The bass recitative points out the worthlessness of life on earth and worldly possesions, reminding the congregation that whenever things are going well, life can quickly take a bad turn:

Gleichwie die Regenwasser bald verfließen
Just as rainwater soon flows away
Und manche Farben leicht verschießen,
and many colours easily fade,
So geht es auch der Freude in der Welt,
so is it also with joy in this world,
Auf welche mancher Mensch so viele Stücken hält;
which many people value so highly;
Denn ob man gleich zuweilen sieht,
even though sometimes people are seen
Dass sein gewünschtes Glücke blüht,
to be flourishing with the good fortune for which they longed
So kann doch wohl in besten Tagen,
still even in the best days
Ganz unvermut’ die letzte Stunde schlagen.
quite unexpectedly the last hour may strike.

The alto aria elaborates on this thought, and Bach really shows off his vocal writing in this aria.How the friendly smile of good fortune can quickly turn into satanic laughter of sorrow/bad luck/disaster is brilliantly illustrated in the music, and wonderfully executed by countertenor Bernhard Landauer. Koopman’s and Landauer’s interpretation of this aria is unrivaled by any of the other recordings I listened to.

Man nehme sich in acht,
You should take care
Wenn das Gelücke lacht.
when good fortune smiles.
Denn es kann leicht auf Erden
For easily in this earthly life
Vor abends anders werden,
before evening things can turn out differently
Als man am Morgen nicht gedacht.
from what you thought in the morning.

Wieneke Gorter, April 23, 2016.

Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen

16 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig, Weimar

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3rd Sunday after Easter, American Bach Soloists, Bach, Benjamin Butterfield, BWV 12, BWV 182, BWV 21, cantatas, Cantus Cölln, Collegium Vocale Gent, Himmelsburg, Jeffrey Thomas, Johanna Koslowsky, John Eliot Gardiner, Konrad Junghänel, Phlippe Herreweghe, Stephen Escher, Vox Luminis, Weimar

For this third Sunday after Easter, I’m jumping back in time to Weimar, 1714, and Bach’s monthly cantata cycle there. Cantata 12 Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen was the second cantata Bach wrote in Weimar after having been promoted to Konzertmeister in 1714.*

Bach repeated this cantata in Leipzig in 1724.

There are several very good recordings of this cantata, but I would recommend listening to the one by Collegium Vocale/Herreweghe, or to the one by Cantus Cölln/Konrad Junghänel, and then listen again to the tenor aria on the American Bach Soloists recording (keep reading until the end to learn why).

I love the Collegium Vocale/Herreweghe recording for the excellent timing and phrasing, the sound of the alto section in the choir, and Marcel Ponseele’s oboe playing. Listen to cantata 12 by Herreweghe on YouTube

2020 update: if you can afford to financially support the artists (especially important now, while they have no income from performances!) please consider purchasing their recordings instead of just listening on YouTube.

Buy this recording on Amazon or on iTunes.

Cantus Cölln/Konrad Junghänel’s recording is one on a part, more similar to what it would have sounded like from the small organ loft in the Himmelsburg, and soprano Johanna Koslowsky’s singing always gives me goose bumps, no matter how many times I’ve listened to it. Listen to cantata 12 by Cantus Cölln.

Buy this recording on Amazon or on iTunes

Find the German texts with English translation of this cantata here and the score here.

The beautiful but sad opening sinfonia would probably have served as an “entrada” for the Duke and his entourage. It is very similar to the one of cantata 21 Ich hatte viel bekümmernis, also written in Weimar.

Several of Bach’s Weimar cantatas were lost when the castle’s chapel burnt down in 1774. Most of the Weimar cantatas we still have today survived only because Bach performed those again in Leipzig, sometimes several times. If he did this because he was proud of these cantatas, then Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen must have been his greatest pride, since he later transformed its opening chorus into the Crucifixus for his Mass in B Minor.

Both the sinfonia and opening chorus convey enormous sadness, while it is “Jubilate” Sunday, and only three weeks after Easter. This has to do with the Gospel reading for this Sunday: Jesus’ speech to his disciples explaining that he will leave them, that they will go through immense suffering, but that their sorrow will turn into joy, comparing it to a woman going through childbirth.

So this cantata first conveys the feelings of the disciples, knowing they will soon be without Jesus, and the “tribulations” Jesus predicts for them. But then it explores the journey “from sadness to joy.”

First of all, the entire score can be seen as uplifting, even though the general atmosphere is downcast. As many scholars have pointed out, the score ascends, movement by movement, in intervals of a third, alternating a minor key with its relative major: f, A flat, c, E flat, g, B flat. Gardiner says that this is the “escape ladder” Bach lowers into the pit of sorrow.

The “sorrow to joy”-theme is also cleverly portrayed in the texts, thanks to Salomo Franck, the Duke’s librarian, acting as librettist for all cantatas Bach wrote in Weimar. Many consider Franck’s poetry superior to most of the texts Bach had to work with in his Leipzig years. The alto aria is a good example: after the Gospel quote in the recitative “Wir müssen durch viel Trübsal” (we have to go through tribulation) comes an upbeat aria illuminating how “Kreuz und Krone” (cross and crown) and “Kampf and Kleinod” (conflict and jewel) are always connected.

While I love everything about this cantata, my absolute favorite part is the tenor aria Sei getreu.

The text of the tenor part refers to the Gospel text “A little while, and ye shall not see me: and again, a little while, and ye shall see me, because I go to the Father” and plays on that concept of “little while” – Franck decided it was not any longer than a period of rainy weather (which in Germany can be a few weeks in a row of course) …

Sei getreu, alle Pein
Be faithful, all pain
Wird doch nur ein Kleines sein.
will only be a little while.
Nach dem Regen
After the rain
Blüht der Segen,
blessing blossoms,
Alles Wetter geht vorbei.
all bad weather passes by.
Sei getreu, sei getreu!
Be faithful, be faithful!

And it gets better! Bach offers additional consolation by way of his music: through this aria, a trumpet plays the melody of “Jesu, meine Freude.” Everyone in attendance in the Himmelsburg would immediately have recognized the melody, and would have heard these words in their head:

Jesu, meine Freude,
Jesus, my joy,
Meines Herzens Weide,
My heart’s delight
Jesu, meine Zier,
Jesus, my treasure
Ach wie lang, ach lange
Ah how long,ah how long
Ist dem Herzen bange
must my heart be anxious
Und verlangt nach dir!
And full of longing for you!
Gottes Lamm, mein Bräutigam,
Lamb of God, my bridegroom
Außer dir soll mir auf Erden,
Besides you there is in on earth
Nichts sonst Liebers werden.
Nothing else that is dearer to me.

My all-time favorite recording of this particular aria is the one by American Bach Soloists, with Benjamin Butterfield singing tenor, and Stephen Escher playing the chorale melody on a cornetto. On most recordings (Herreweghe, Cantus Cölln, Gardiner) the part is played on a Baroque trumpet, on some (Koopman) on a Baroque oboe. The softer, more human sound of the cornetto combined with Escher’s fabulous playing makes this the most moving interpretation of this aria I’ve ever heard. Listen for yourself: find American Bach Soloists’ recording of Sei getreu on YouTube.

cornettplayer with singer — singer with cornetto player, anonymous, 16th century

2020 update: Since I wrote this in 2016, Vox Luminis released a wonderful recording of this cantata. They use a slide trumpet in the tenor aria, which is a beautiful middle between the Baroque trumpets of the Herreweghe, Cantus Cölln, and Gardiner recordings and the cornetto of the American Bach Soloists recording.

Find Vox Luminis’ recording of Cantata 12 on YouTube, on Amazon, or on iTunes.

Wieneke Gorter, April 16, 2016, updated April 27, 2020.

*The first cantata Bach wrote in Weimar was cantata 182 Himmelskönig, sei wilkommen for Palm Sunday.

A good shepherd, a violoncello piccolo da spalla, and a bit of St. Matthew Passion

09 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig

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2nd Sunday after Easter, Atsuko Ozaki, Bach, Bach Collegium Japan, BWV 42, BWV 6, BWV 85, cantatas, Caroyn Sampson, Dmitry Badiarov, Georg Poplutz, Gerd Türk, Gerlinde Säman, Harnoncourt, J.S. Bach Foundation, John Eliot Gardiner, Kurt Equiluz, Markus Volpert, Martin Zeller, Peter Kooij, Peter Kooy, Robin Blaze, Rudolf Lutz, St. Matthew Passion, Terry Wey, violoncello da spalla, violoncello piccolo

640px-meister_des_mausoleums_der_galla_placidia_in_ravenna_002 — The Good Shepherd, mosaic in the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ravenna, 1st half of the 5th century

There are three beautiful cantatas for this second Sunday after Easter, or “Misericordias Domini” Sunday: BWV 104, 85, and 112. Illustrating the “good shepherd” scripture for this Sunday (John 10, verse 12-16), Bach incorporated pastoral themes or orchestration in each of these cantatas.*

I’ve decided to focus on cantata 85 Ich bin ein guter Hirt, written for April 15, 1725. Of all three cantatas, this is the one I remember the best from my childhood, because of the tenor aria “Seht, was die Liebe tut.” Also: Last week, I already mentioned the similarities between cantata 6 (for Easter Monday 1725), and cantata 42 (for the first Sunday after Easter 1725). This cantata 85 is the culmination of that “sub group” within the cantatas from 1725.

Which recording to listen to?

While I have good memories of hearing Kurth Equiluz sing the tenor aria on the Harnoncourt recording from 1977, I am enamored by Bach Collegium Japan’s recording of this cantata, and I think this is the best “overall” recording, featuring fabulous soloists Carolyn Sampson, Robin Blaze, Gerd Türk, and Peter Kooij. It is also one of the most noteworthy because of the use of a violoncello da spalla, played by Dmitry Badiarov.

Listen to Bach Collegium Japan’s recording of cantata 85 Ich bin ein guter Hirt on Spotify. Or better yet, if you can afford to financially support the artists (especially important now, while they have no income from performances!) please consider purchasing the digital versions of Bach Collegium Japan’s recording of cantata 85 on Amazon or on iTunes.

If you prefer to watch a live recording, there is a wonderful recording available on YouTube by the J.S. Bach Foundation. Soloists are Gerlinde Sämann, soprano; Terry Wey, alto; Georg Poplutz, tenor; Markus Volpert, bass; and Martin Zeller, violoncello piccolo.

Back to the Bach Collegium Japan recording: After lovely and convincing singing by bass Peter Kooij in the opening arioso (Jesus saying “I am a good shepherd”), we get a sublime performance by countertenor Robin Blaze of the alto aria “Jesus ist ein guter Hirt,” which also features the unusual violoncello piccolo da spalla. Someone could probably write an entire PhD thesis on the difference between the violoncello piccolo “da spalla” (held on the shoulder, like a violin), and the violoncello piccolo “da gamba” (held between the legs, like a cello), and whether Bach meant the one or the other when he wrote a part for “violoncello piccolo.” Most recordings (Harnoncourt, Gardiner, Coin, Koopman, and J.S. Bach Foundation) feature the one held between the legs, but Bach Collegium Japan’s recording features the “da spalla” variety, played by the same person who built it in 2004, Dmitry Badiarov.

Badiarov-Dmitry-04 — Dmitry Badiarov demonstrating the violoncello piccolo da spalla

Following this, we hear a radiant soprano solo chorale with oboe accompaniment (which makes me think back to the soprano solo chorale from cantata 6, in that case with the violoncello piccolo “da gamba”), beautifully sung by soprano Carolyn Sampson and expertly played by oboists Masamitsu San’nomiya and Atsuko Ozaki.

And when you didn’t think it could get any better, here comes a tenor recitative which in text and string accompaniment strongly refers to Jesus’ recitative from the St. Matthew Passion “Ich werde den Hirten schlagen, und die Schafe der Herde werden sich zerstreuen.” (Christ, having arrived at the Mount of Olives, reminds his disciples of the prophecy that the shepherd will be slain and the sheep will scatter).

With this only recitative in cantata 85, Bach has gotten everyone’s attention, so now we’re ready for the jewel in the crown of this cantata: the tenor aria “Seht, was die Liebe tut.” It is one of the most lyrical and lovely among all Bach’s tenor arias.

Seht, was die Liebe tut.
See, what love does.
Mein Jesus hält in guter Hut
My Jesus in his own safekeeping
Die Seinen feste eingeschlossen
keeps those who are his own firmly enclosed
Und hat am Kreuzesstamm vergossen
and on the beam of the cross he has shed
Für sie sein teures Blut.
for them his own precious blood.

Again there is a strong association with the St. Matthew Passion both in text and music. In his book Bach: Music in the Castle of Heaven Gardiner makes a very convincing case for his theory that Bach had wanted to perform the St. Matthew Passion on Good Friday 1725, only one year after the St. John Pasion. This didn’t happen because either the council disapproved, or Bach wasn’t ready composing the piece. If Bach had indeed been working on the St. Matthew Passion before Easter 1725, it is no wonder we’re getting glimpses of that monumental work in his cantatas after Easter 1725.

Wieneke Gorter, April 9, 2016, updated April 26, 2020

*I wrote about Cantata 104 for the Second Sunday after Easter in 1724 in this blog post.

One of my favorite cantatas

03 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by cantatasonmymind in After Easter, Cantatas, Leipzig

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1st Sunday after Easter, Barbara Schlick, BWV 21, BWV 31, BWV 4, BWV 42, BWV 6, Gérard Lesne, Howard Crook, Peter Kooij, Philippe Herreweghe

appearance-of-christ-to-his-disciples — Anthony van Dyck: Appearance of Christ to his Disciples, 1625/1626

This post is about Cantata 42 Am Abend aber desselbigen Sabbats, written for the 1st Sunday after Easter in 1725.

For Bach, Easter season in Leipzig was extremely busy. Immediately after the passion on Good Friday, he needed to have three to four cantatas ready to go: two cantatas for Easter Sunday, one for Easter Monday, and one for Easter Tuesday. And then five days later, again one for the Sunday after Easter, the one I am discussing here. If we imagine Bach having to work on most of these in the week before Easter, that same week in which he was rehearsing the Passion for Good Friday, and often adjusting the score still too, it is not so strange that he often re-used existing music at this time of year. It would either be a repeat performance of an Easter cantata from his time in Mühlhausen (Christ lag in Todesbanden) or Weimar (Der Himmel lacht! Die Erde Jubilieret!) or a new cantata, with new text, but largely based on existing secular music he had written for the Weimar or Köthen courts.

In 1725, the performance list looked like this:

Good Friday: St. John Passion, 2nd version, significantly rewritten from the year before.

Easter Sunday: Easter-Oratorio, largely based on existing court music from Köthen + a repeat of Christ Lag in Todesbanden (Bible story: Maria Magdalena and Maria Jacobi finding the empty tomb)

Easter Monday: new composition: Cantata 6 Bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden (Bible story: Jesus appeared before two of his disciples while they were walking on the road to Emmaus).

(If you have time, it is helpful to listen to cantata 6 (here on YouTube) before you listen to today’s cantata 42, because 42 refers to 6 in style and thought, and the use of the “two and three” in the text of the alto aria of cantata 42 might even be meant to “remind” us of these *two* disciples in that story of Easter Monday.

Easter Tuesday: we don’t know what was performed on this day in that year.

1st Sunday after Easter: Cantata 42 Am Abend aber desselbigen Sabbats, opening sinfonia and alto aria based on existing court music from Köthen (Bible story: while a small group of his disciples are inside a house in Jerusalem, with all the doors and windows locked, Jesus appears in their midst).

Ever since I started this blog at the beginning of this year, I’ve been eagerly awaiting this first Sunday after Easter, so I can finally introduce you to cantata 42 from 1725. It is one of my favorites because of the many gems strung together: a Brandenburg concerto-like sinfonia (as if Bach wanted to continue the kind of instrumental opening he had written for the Easter Oratorio from last week), a bit of Evangelist recitative (which is missing from the Easter Oratorio, so is more a reference to the St. John Passion), a terrific alto aria, a pretty soprano-tenor duet, an impressive bass aria, and a wonderful closing chorale.

I discovered this cantata about fifteen years ago, on the Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis CD Herreweghe recorded in 2000. It took me a little while to listen past the well-known cantata 21, and thus get to know cantata 42, but then I fell in love with it, especially with the alto aria, so beautifully sung by Gérard Lesne. Later, in 2007, while watching the documentary DVD Philippe Herreweghe by himself, it was a treat to find a couple of scenes showing Herreweghe rehearsing that same alto aria (though sadly not with Lesne).

Listen to cantata 42 on YouTube

Soloists on this Herreweghe recording are Barbara Schlick, Gérard Lesne, Howard Crook, and Peter Kooij.

Read the German text with English translation of cantata 42 here.

For a long time I thought that the gorgeous oboe parts at the start of the alto aria were based on the opening chorus of cantata 3 (and only found one other commentator ever to remark on this too) but thanks to Gardiner’s recent research, we know that the music for the aria as well as for the opening sinfonia of this cantata was copied from a (now lost) birthday serenata Bach wrote for Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Köthen (BWV 66a).

We can only guess if Bach had always meant to use the birthday music from Köthen, and selected text that would fit on the music, or if he received the “Wo zwei und drei versammlet sind” (Where two or three are gathered together) text from his librettist and only then had to think of that composition he had written in Köthen, with the groups of two and three in the orchestration …

Wieneke Gorter, April 3, 2016, updated April 26, 2020.