Category Archives: Leipzig

Playing with fugues & Bach’s harpsichord at Köthen

24 Thursday Aug 2023

Posted by in 1723 Trinity season special series, Bach's life, Cantatas, Köthen, Leipzig, Trinity

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“The White Mietke,” a single manual* harpsichord built by Michael Mietke in Berlin, circa 1700. Lacquer artist: Gérard Dagly. Charlottenburg Castle, Berlin, Germany. In his last four years in Köthen, Bach played on a double manual harpsichord by the same builder, built especially for him in 1719.

This past Sunday was the 11th Sunday after Trinity, for which Bach wrote Cantata 179 Siehe zu, daß deine Gottesfurcht nicht Heuchelei sei (See that your fear of God is not hypocrisy) in 1723 in Leipzig. 

Much has been written about the stunning fugue in the opening chorus of this cantata, and I happily refer you to my posts from 2016 and 2020 for more information and a link to my favorite recording. But last week I learned something completely new about this opening chorus, thanks to yet another fabulous video series that saw the light during the pandemic: Richard Atkinson’s Bach Analyses. Since I’m a visual learner, I truly love watching videos like these. At first I merely started watching Richard’s video on the opening chorus of Cantata 179 to see if it would perhaps make the complex structure of the composition a bit easier to understand than Eduard van Hengel’s written explanation I had discussed in 2016.

And indeed it really helped me understand the music better! But what’s more, in that video Richard points out that the fugue from Cantata 179 shares some unusual composition techniques as well as themes with another mind boggling fugue by Bach, namely that of his Prelude and fugue no. 3 in C-sharp major (BWV 872) from the Well Tempered Clavier, Book II. As far as I know, no other Bach scholar or commentator ever mentioned this. Listen to that fugue here, played by Christine Schornsheim. We don’t know when exactly Bach wrote the keyboard piece, because we only have the publication date of the collection in which it appeared (Well Tempered Clavier Book II, 1740). It is possible that the cantata came first, but it is just as likely that Bach would have written the keyboard work before the cantata, while still employed at Köthen.   

Thinking of Bach playing with fugues on the harpsichord in Köthen brings me to another bit about Bach’s life I learned last week, while watching the interview with Christine Schornsheim by the Netherlands Bach Society (with good English subtitles): that we actually know what kind of harpsichord Bach played in Köthen, from 1719 to 1723. To be clear: most harpsichord players and all harpsichord builders already know this, but I didn’t, and I thought it worth mentioning here.

Historical records show that the Prince of Köthen allowed Bach to order a harpsichord from the famous builder Michael Mietke in Berlin sometime in 1718, and got to pick it up in March 1719.

On March 1, 1719, the accounts read: “To the Capellmeister Bach for the Berlin-made harpsichord and travel expenses 130 Thaler”. On March 14, Gottschalk, the chamber servant, also received eight thalers in “wages for transporting the Berlin harpsichord.”

The instrument remained in the princely music chamber; Bach did not get to take it with him when he moved  to Leipzig in May 1723. In 1784, the instrument is still mentioned: “The large harpsichord or grand piano with 2 manuals, by Michael Mietke in Berlin, 1719, defect.”

Many harpsichord builders have created copies of Bach’s “Mietke harpsichord.” In the video registration of the Prelude and fugue no. 3 in C-sharp major (BWV 872), Christine Schornsheim plays a terrific copy by Bruce Kennedy. The Köthen Castle had a copy made in 1992 by Martin-Christian Schmidt, pictured here: 

For the picture at the top of this blog post I chose one of the very few original Mietke harpsichords that have survived to this day, the “White Mietke” at the Charlottenburg Castle in Berlin. It was built almost two decades earlier than Bach’s harpsichord, it only has one single keyboard, and it was decorated by the court painter at Charlottenburg. 

Wieneke Gorter, August 23, 2023. 

*manual = keyboard

About Weekly Cantata

I am a bilingual writer, publicist, choral singer, art and nature lover, happy wife, and blessed mother of two. I started this blog in 2016, inspired by my late mother’s love for Bach’s cantatas. After 23 years in the San Francisco Bay Area, I’m now back in the Netherlands.

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Bach’s version of Jeremiah’s Lament

11 Friday Aug 2023

Posted by in 1723 Trinity season special series, Bach's life, Cantatas, Leipzig, Trinity

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Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1630. Oil on panel. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Click here for more information about this painting.

Continuing with Bach’s 1723 cantata cycle, next up is Cantata 46 Schauet doch und sehet, ob irgend ein Schmerz sei, written for the 10th Sunday after Trinity (August 1st in 1723). 

My favorite recording of this cantata is still the one by Herreweghe from 2012, which you can find here on YouTube via a playlist I created. However if you’d like to see all the special instruments in action, I highly recommend the J.S. Bach Foundation’s live video registration, with a tromba da tirarsi (slide trumpet) and recorders* in the opening chorus, a Baroque trumpet in the bass aria, and an oboe da caccia (hunting oboe, also new for Bach in Leipzig) as well as the recorders in the alto aria.

Please find the text here, and the score here.

Scholars agree that last week’s Cantata 105 and this week’s Cantata 46 Schauet doch und sehet, ob irgend ein Schmerz sei, can be seen as a pair within Bach’s works from that first summer in Leipzig. Here’s why: 

  1. The stunning opening choruses of these two cantatas are both written as if they were a Prelude and Fugue for organ. Bach would later use the Prelude part of Cantata 46’s opening chorus as the Qui tollis for his Mass in B Minor.
  2. Both cantatas contain a “floating aria.” With this I mean an aria without the usual fundament of a basso continuo (organ or harpsichord and cello), of which Bach’s most famous exemple is the Aus Liebe aria from his St. Matthew Passion. Bach included such an aria for the first time in last week’s Cantata 105 (the soprano aria Wir zittern und wanken) and one appears again in this week’s Cantata 46 (the alto aria Doch Jesus will auch bei der Strafe).
  3. Bach uses a da tirarsi brass instrument in both: a corno da tirarsi in 105 and a tromba da tirarsi in 46 (read last week’s post for more information about these).

I have written about some of these aspects of Cantata 46 before, but I never really paid much attention to the text. I needed Karl Graf, the theologian participating in the lecture about this cantata by the J.S. Bach Foundation**, to point out that the text of this cantata refers to two destructions of Jerusalem, in 586 BC by the Babylonians, and in 70 AD by the Romans. 

Jeremiah the Prophet laments the 586 BC massacre in his Lamentations of Jermiah, a collection of poetry from the Old Testament, from which Bach’s librettist takes the words for the opening chorus.

Jesus predicts the destruction by the Romans in 70 AD, and weeps about it, in Luke 19: 41-48, which was the official reading for this 10th Sunday after Trinity in Bach’s church. Bach and his librettist mix the two parts of the Bible, because in their minds it is all the same, history unfortunately repeats itself. The bass aria paints one of the most dramatic pictures ever in a Bach cantata, and the text of the alto recitative warns that Leipzig could be next! Fortunately, as usual in a Bach cantata, there’s the promise of salvation, and a lightening of the mood in the music as well, this time in the form of the pastoral alto aria.

Throughout the Renaissance and Baroque, Catholic and Anglican composers have set the Lamentations of Jeremiah to music for the Tenebrae services of Holy Week. A notable example are those by Jan Dismas Zelenka, Bach’s colleague at the Catholic court in nearby Dresden. Zelenka wrote his Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet for Holy Week in 1722, so roughly 1,5 years before Bach wrote his Cantata 46. While Bach and Zelenka knew each other and Bach had friends in the Dresden court orchestra, I truly don’t know if Bach was aware of Zelenka’s setting of the Lamentations prior to August 1st 1723. There are some interesting similarities between the compositions, for example Zelenka also opting for a pastoral scene towards the end, but that’s food for another blog post! For now I just like to think that Bach wrote his own Lutheran version of the Lamentations with this Cantata 46. 

Wieneke Gorter, August 11, 2023.

*It is the first time Bach uses recorders in Leipzig, but it is an instrument he often uses to portray sorrow.

**If you understand German or don’t mind automatically generated subtitles on YouTube, you can watch the extremely informative lecture about Cantata 46 here. It doesn’t just feature Rudolf Lutz and Karl Graf, but also Bach Scholar Michael Maul from the Bach-Archiv Leipzig.

Leipzig for Bach = finally getting to work with the legendary Reiche and his crazy instruments

06 Sunday Aug 2023

Posted by in 1723 Trinity season special series, Bach's life, Cantatas, Leipzig, Trinity

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Olivier Picon with a natural horn on the left, and corno da tirarsi on the right

I’m in movie script mode again and jumping back 300 years, to the summer of 1723 in Leipzig. I believe that when moving to Leipzig, Bach couldn’t wait to meet the town’s famous brass player, Gottfried Reiche (1667-1734). I imagine that throughout the summer of 1723, these two creative geniuses would have frequently been “geeking out” about Reiche’s exciting innovation in brass instruments: the corno da tirarsi (or slide horn, on the right in the picture above), for which Bach most probably started writing around Trinity 4 in 1723 (about a month before today’s cantata).

As far as we know Reiche owned the one and only specimen and was the only one who knew how to play it. Scholars consider it very likely that he had the instrument specially made for him, in order to play more complicated music on a horn than one could at the time on a natural horn. 

I have written about the corno da tirarsi before. However, I never fully realized how incredibly special that instrument must have been at the time, what the exact difference was with regular horns at the time, and how it works. Ironically, as a result of musicians being stuck at home during the pandemic, there are now some excellent educational videos on youtube, which explain all of this much better than I could ever do in writing.

So here goes with the lesson:

For an excellent demonstration of the limitations of natural horns before 1750, please watch the first three and a half minutes of this video by Todd Wiliams from the USA.

Then watch this video by Anneke Scott from the UK, about the corno da tirarsi as reconstructed by Egger.

Thank you Todd Williams and Anneke Scott! If you would like to show your appreciation for Anneke’s efforts, you can buy her a coffee on this website. 

Gottfried Reiche

There is no doubt in my mind that Bach had already heard about Leipzig’s highly skilled senior Stadtpfeiffer (town piper) Gottfried Reiche before moving to Leipzig in May of 1723. Bach came from a family of town pipers, and in 1721 he married into a family of which every male member was a trumpet player (just sit with that for a few seconds). Reiche was of the same generation as Bach’s father-in-law Johann Caspar Wilcke (c. 1660–1733), and both had been trained in Weissenfels, which Olivier Picon qualifies as “probably the most important city in trumpet playing tradition in Germany at that time” in his 2010 thesis about the corno da tirarsi. I can imagine the animated discussions at both the Bach and the Wilcke family gatherings. Reiche’s virtuosity as well as his unusual instruments* must have been a frequent subject!

Now we come to today’s Cantata 105 Herr, gehe nicht ins Gericht mit deinem Knecht. (Enter not into judgement with Thy servant, O Lord.) It is one of my favorite cantatas, and Bach’s first** Leipzig cantata with a significant solo part for the corno da tirarsi, in the tenor aria. For the educational purpose of this blog as well as for the excellent rendition of the tenor aria I would like to feature the live video by the J.S. Bach Foundation, with Olivier Picon (pictured at the top of this post) playing the corno da tirarsi in the opening chorus, the tenor aria, and the closing chorale. Other soloists are Sibylla Rubens, soprano; Jan Börner, alto; Bernhard Berchtold, tenor; and Tobias Wicky, bass.

Picon initiated the reconstruction of the corno da tirarsi by the Swiss brass instrument firm Egger, which Anneke Scott also refers to in her video. Picon’s thesis from 2010, documenting the reconstruction as well as meticulously analyzing all cantatas that might have possibly been written for this instrument, is still the main source for scholars when discussing the corno da tirarsi. In this work, Picon also shares that Cantata 105 is his favorite cantata to play on the instrument.

Read the German text with English translations of Cantata 105 here, and find the score here.

Of course there’s much more to this cantata than just the unusual instrumentation. In 2021, also as part of a pandemic project, I wrote a post for California Bach Society highlighting all the ways in which this cantata foreshadows the St. Matthew Passion. Please find that post here.  

I welcome your questions, comments, or words of encouragement below in the comment-section. 

Wieneke Gorter, August 6, 2023.

*Reiche apparently was also the owner and player of another unique instrument, the tromba da tirarsi, or slide trumpet.
**Cantata 24 for the 4th Sunday after Trinity 1723 also features a solo part that might have been meant for the instrument, but opinions about this vary, and even Picon suggests the opening chorus might be played on a tromba da tirarsi (slide trumpet) and the closing chorale on a natural horn.

February 2: Simeon’s Prophecy

06 Sunday Feb 2022

Posted by in Cantatas, Chorale cantatas 1724/1725, Leipzig

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Nunc Dimittis by Giovanni Bellini, ca. 1502. Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection, Madrid, Spain. In contrast with the other paintings featured in this post, the elderly prophet Anna is replaced with a young woman and the Temple is replaced with open countryside. The different setting is probably also why the painting’s title is not The presentation at the Temple but instead the first words of Simeon’s prayer.

This past Wednesday, February 2, was the feast of the Purification of Mary, or The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. According to Jewish custom (as described in Luke 2:22-38), 40 days after the birth of a first-born son, his parents bring him to the Temple for a ceremony in which the mother offers a pair of doves for the purpose of her own purification, and the child is “bought back” from the Temple for money. When Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to the Temple, the prophetess Anna, an 84-year-old full-time resident of the Temple, is there too, as well as Simeon. Simeon was a devout Jew who had been promised by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah. Upon seeing the child, Simeon offers a song of praise, known as the “Song of Simeon” or the “Nunc Dimittis.” He also speaks a prophecy to Mary. Read the complete Gospel text here.

I have written several blog posts about this over the past years, discussing how the early Christian church tied pre-Christian end-of-winter rites to their own feast days of Candlemass and the Purification of Mary. Whether Bach writes a joyful cantata about new beginnings or a more solemn one for this feast day, there is always a bright spotlight on Simeon’s words “Now let your servant die in peace” (Nunc Dimittis).

In his German-language Bach cantata podcasts, prominent Bach scholar Michael Maul has now twice pointed out the influence of the existing art works depicting The presentation of Jesus in the Temple on how Bach and his contemporaries might have seen this story. I loved hearing this, because that’s what I almost always try to do in this blog too, to find an example of the kind of imagery Bach might have had in mind when thinking of the Bible stories.

There is a large number of paintings about the presentation at the Temple, and Simeon plays a central role in each of them. Maul gives the example that the Bible doesn’t specify Simeon’s age and that references to “the old Simeon” by Bach and his librettists must come from the long beard and grey hair in all the paintings.

So, this week, I decided to do a bit of digging around in those art works and the Bible story.

The Presentation in the Temple by Stefan Lochner, ca. 1447. Hessisches Landesmuseum, Darmstadt, Germany. In this painting, it is all about the ceremony: Mary is holding the requisite offering of a pair of doves, Joseph (to her left) prepares a monetary offering, and the children with the candles are there to stress that the Presentation in the Temple falls on the same day as Candlemass. My only question is: is the priest in the brick-colored cloak Simeon, or is Simeon the man standing to the right, holding the Nunc Dimittis prayer in his hand? I guess I will have to go to Darmstadt sometime to find out.

Reading the Gospel of Luke (see above), it seems logical to me that artists thought of Simeon as an old man, since it says “that he would not die until he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.” From the detailed description of the prophet Anna’s old age it is then of course an easy step to also think of Simeon as an octogenarian.

What I did find surprising is that in many of the paintings, especially the earlier ones, and even in the discussions by art historians such as Zuffi, Simeon gets assigned the role of the priest on duty at the temple, when he was just a visitor that day. It is an interesting question how and when that piece of fiction was born, but it is just a side story here.

Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Stefan Lochner, ca. 1447. Gulbenkian Foundation, Lisbon, Portugal. Yes this is the same painter and the same year as the previous image. This one is called “the Lisbon Presentation” among art historians.

In several paintings, such as all presentations by Memling (see here and here), Lorenzetti, and Lochner (Darmstadt, see above), the focus is on the ceremony. Jewelry, doves, money, and clothing are painstakingly portrayed, but there is no emotion. But then there are the paintings that seem a bit more intimate, the earliest of these the “Lisbon presentation” by Lochner, from ca. 1447, see here directly above. In this painting it is Joseph who’s carrying the doves, Mary is empty-handed and just praying. This painting is not about her. Jesus is touching Simeon’s beard, and Simeon seems to be crying. Daniel Levine offers the explanation that Simeon’s sadness is caused by his vision of the child’s future, as he says to Mary: “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, and many others to rise. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose him. As a result, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul.” The painting at the top of this post, by Bellini, might also fall in this category.

We see this happening even more clearly and directly in Rembrandt’s representation of the same story, almost two centuries later. There is no ceremony at all here, only a conversation between two people, with Simeon clearly speaking to Mary.

The Presentation in the Temple by Rembrandt van Rijn, ca. 1628. Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Germany.

Thus it seems as if at least some of the artists were especially moved by the foreshadowing of the Passion story in Simeon’s words. Whether Bach had seen those specific paintings or not, I don’t know of course. But it is clear that the idea existed at the time, and it is a bit more proof for the theory I expressed in this blog post about Cantata 125, that this cantata looks ahead to the St. Matthew Passion. This is all the more motivation for me to start writing more about that Passion in the coming weeks.

Wieneke Gorter, February 6, 2022.

The very last chorale cantata

29 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by in Cantatas, Chorale cantatas 1724/1725, Epiphany, Leipzig

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Wartburg castle in Eisenach, Germany, where Luther translated the Bible from Latin into German.

For a period of nine months, starting on June 11, 1724, Bach wrote a brand-new cantata for every Sunday and feast day. It became his “chorale cantata cycle,” the second cycle of cantatas he composed in Leipzig, for the 1724/1725 season. After Bach’s death in 1750, this collection of cantatas was considered the most important part of his cantata legacy, and there are several indications that he truly meant for this collection to survive him. For example, for the twelve Sundays or feast days that had not occurred in the 1724/1725 season, he would write a chorale cantata later in his life, in order to fill the gaps in the cycle. 

Cantata 14 Wär Gott nicht mit uns diese Zeit is the very last one of those added chorale cantatas, composed in 1735, exactly 10 years after the missed Sunday in 1725. Listen to it here in a live video recording from 2017 by Cantus Cölln. Soloists are Magdalene Harer, soprano; Elisabeth Popien, alto; Georg Poplutz, tenor; and Wolf-Matthias Friedrich, bass.  

Please find the text and translations here, and the score here.

When Bach uses one of Luther’s original hymns as the basis for a chorale cantata, he often writes the opening chorus in the form of a motet, using a composition style from the Renaissance, which was considered very old-fashioned in his time. See for example my blog posts about Cantata 2 Ach Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein here, and Cantata 38 Aus tiefer Not schrei ich zu dir here. It is his way of paying his respects to Luther and his hymns, which were 200 years old at the time. So it is only fitting that the very last chorale cantata he ever wrote also opens with such a motet.

However, the soprano aria and the bass aria from Cantata 14 make it clear that Bach is not in 1525 or even 1725 anymore, but firmly in 1735, the year of his Christmas Oratorio and Ascension Oratorio.

Wieneke Gorter, January 29, 2022.

Cantata 73 by Herreweghe

22 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by in Cantatas, Epiphany, Leipzig

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Christ healing a leper, by Rembrandt van Rijn, circa 1650-1655. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

For this third Sunday after Epiphany, Bach wrote four cantatas: 73, 111, 72, and 156. The Bible story for this Sunday is about the miracle of Christ healing a leper. Last year I mentioned that I had a hard time finding the corresponding art for that story. My readers immediately came to the rescue, and pointed me to the two images featured in today’s post. Thank you again!

My favorite of all these cantatas is Cantata 73 Herr, wie du willt, so schick’s mit mir, especially in the 2013 recording by Herreweghe. Please find that recording here on Spotify. Soloists are Dorothee Mields (soprano), Thomas Hobbs (tenor), and Peter Kooij (bass). If you don’t have access to Spotify, you can find their 1990 recording here on YouTube. Soloists on this older recording are: Barbara Schlick (soprano), Howard Crook (tenor), and Peter Kooij (bass).

I had been planning to attend a live performance by Herreweghe of this cantata as well as another one of my favorites, Cantata 198, on January 29 in Brussels, but unfortunately the programming of that concert was changed to the Mass in B Minor. I completely understand the reasoning behind this, and I am absolutely thrilled for the musicians of Collegium Vocale Gent that they get to perform for an audience after all (until earlier this week, it looked as if all concerts in Belgium would be canceled until the end of this month), but I’m so sad about the cantatas!

Please find the German texts with English translations of Cantata 73 here, and the score here.

Jesus healing a leper, Mosaic, 12th century. Cathedral of the Assumption, Monreale, Sicily.

Especially the bass aria makes Herreweghe’s recording of this cantata tower above all others. It is so well done by Peter Kooij and the orchestra; it moves me every time I listen to it.

The best part for me is the illustration of “Leichenglocken” (death bells) by pizzicato strings and a somewhat “tolling” movement in the vocal part. Bach used this feature in many other cantatas, for example in (cantata number/movement number): 8/1, 95/5, 105/4, 127/3, 161/4, 198/4.

To know what else to listen for in this cantata, please read my post from 2016 . There I also explain how this cantata is connected to Cantata 72.

Wieneke Gorter, January 22, 2022.

Merry Christmas!

25 Saturday Dec 2021

Posted by in Cantatas, Chorale cantatas 1724/1725, Christmas, Following Bach in 1725, Köthen, Leipzig

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Merry Christmas! My sincere apologies if you are somewhere in the world where it is not Christmas Morning anymore.

I have two new videos for you today, that will last you until January 6, just in case I don’t manage to write another blog post between now and then.

The J.S. Bach Foundation has released all six cantatas of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio to YouTube. They released these on CD and DVD for purchase last year, but have now made them available to everyone. You can find that video recording here.

What is even better: they also made the effort to provide English subtitles for Rudolf Lutz’ lecture about Part I of the Oratorio, for Christmas Day. You can find that video here. I highly recommend watching this to better understand the meaning of the music, to learn how Bach reworked some of his secular cantatas into this Oratorio, and that he perhaps planned to do that all along.

There is also a good video of parts I, II, III, and VI of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio by Bach Akademie Stuttgart. The setting in which they perform is less festive looking than the beautiful Baroque church of the J.S. Bach Foundation, but it’s also well done. You can find it here.

If you would like to read and listen more, here’s an overview of my previous blog posts for this First Christmas Day:

Our Christmas Morning, from 2016, talks about how my mother used to wake my sister and me up with Bach’s Christmas Oratorio.

Three Days of Christmas, from 2017, gives you the three cantatas Bach wrote in 1724, all three brand-new, no reworking there.

My own favorite post is Bach and the Christmas Day Message, from 2019, about Cantata 110 from 1725.

And my post from last year is Angels – We Can Use Some This Week, in which I highlight one of the 1724 cantatas.

Happy listening and watching! And please let me know if any of the links don’t work.

Wieneke Gorter, December 25, 2021.

Wishing you beauty, love, and contemplation for Advent

28 Sunday Nov 2021

Posted by in Advent, Cantatas, Chorale cantatas 1724/1725, Following Bach in 1725, Leipzig, Weimar

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In German-speaking countries, people wish each other either a “schönen” (beautiful, pleasant), “lieblichen” (lovely, love-filled), or a “besinnlichen” (thoughtful, contemplative) Advent. I wish you all of that: beauty, love, and contemplation for the next four weeks.

On this first Sunday of Advent, I present to you again the J.S. Bach Foundation (J.S. Bachstiftung) with soprano Núria Rial, this time in Cantata 36 Schwingt freudig euch empor. In 1731, Bach transformed a secular birthday cantata from 1725 into this work for Advent. Enjoy watching these two videos by the J.S. Bach Foundation to get better acquainted with this composition:

Fabulous explanation by Rudolf Lutz of cantata BWV 36 “Schwingt freudig euch empor” (in German with English subtitles)

Video registration of their concert in Trogen, Switzerland, in 2007: J.S. Bach – Cantata BWV 36 “Schwingt freudig euch empor” (J.S. Bach Foundation)

If you would like to read, listen, or watch more, here’s a little overview of my previous posts for the first Sunday of Advent:

In Weimar, in 1714, Bach wrote Cantata 61 Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland. This one I remember the best from my childhood, because my mother loved Seppi Kronwitter’s singing of the soprano aria on the Harnoncourt recording. Read about it here. More about Bach’s prolific Advent cantata writing in Weimar next week.

In Leipzig, in 1724, Bach wrote Cantata 62 Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland. My most recent writing about this cantata is from 2020, not for this blog, but for that of California Bach Society. Find it here. My post from 2017 about this cantata is here.

Read my post about Cantata 36 Schwingt freudig euch empor here. 

Wieneke Gorter, November 28, 2021.

By the way: the video of the J.S. Bach Foundation’s 15th Anniversary concert with Núria Rial is still available here on YouTube. It is a registration of the performance in Trogen, held one day after the one I attended in Basel.

J.S. Bach Foundation with Nuria Rial review and live video

18 Thursday Nov 2021

Posted by in Cantatas, Köthen, Leipzig, Weimar

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The church in Trogen, Switzerland, where the 15th anniversary concert of the J.S. Bach Foundation was recorded on November 17, 2021. Find it here on YouTube.

Nuria Rial in Basel

This week, the J.S. Bach Foundation celebrated 15 years of recording Bach cantatas with a special anniversary program in three cities in Switzerland: Basel, Trogen, and Zürich. I am still pinching myself that I got to attend the concert in Basel on Tuesday November 16, sitting only 6 feet (2 meters) from the amazing soprano Nuria Rial, who sang Cantata 199 Mein Herze schwimmt im Blut and Cantata 202 Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten.

Her performance was everything I had been hoping for and more. Her voice pulls you in from the start, and the energy and joy she exudes are just extraordinary. And then there’s her playfulness. I will never forget how special it was to experience that from up-close. I also realized what a true ensemble member she is, always in contact with the instrumentalists.

Amy Power in Basel

And those instrumentalists really need to be mentioned! Oboist Amy Power’s playing was lyrical throughout, with beautiful ornamentations in the “da capo” parts of the arias. I especially enjoyed the call-and response between her and Nuria Rial in the first movement of Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten. Her accomplishments were even more impressive knowing that she had been summoned from Graz less than 8 days before the concert, when the J.S. Bach Foundation heard that oboist Andreas Helm had to isolate at home because of contracting Covid-19.

First violinist Eva Borhi’s sensitive playing was especially gorgeous in the “Tief gebückt” aria from Canatata 199 and “Schlummert ein” aria from Cantata 82 with Manuel Walser. But my favorite was her interaction with Nuria Rial in the “Wenn die Frühlingslufte streichen” aria from Cantata 202.

Violist Sonoko Asabuki had an exquisite solo in the Chorale “Ich, dein betrübtes Kind” from Cantata 199, and cellist Daniel Rosin did a great illustration of Phoebus’ speeding horses in the third movement of Cantata 202, which earned a “Bravo” cheer from the audience, as if we were at the opera. (Always better than the audience member who fell asleep during “Schlummert ein,” snoring and all, a few rows behind me).

Last but not least, Rudolf Lutz, who directed the others from the harpsichord, improvised tasteful and effective mini-preludes leading up to the recitatives in Cantata 199, and very sensitively employed the lute register in the da capo of “Schlummert ein,” which formed a beautiful accompaniment to the pianissimo playing strings. He was also his usual witty self, making audience and performers laugh with his short speeches. My sister mentioned that even though we were here together at the concert because of our mother, she was actually strongly reminded of our grandfather. Also a man who always appeared very proper and Calvinist, but would then surprise you with his terrific sense of humor.

Watch this same performance, recorded live in Trogen, a day later than the one I attended in Basel here on YouTube.

Wieneke Gorter, November 19, 2021.

Dorothee Mields in the spotlight – Third Sunday after Trinity

20 Sunday Jun 2021

Posted by in 1723 Trinity season special series, Cantatas, Chorale cantatas 1724/1725, Köthen, Leipzig, Trinity, Weimar

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As far as we know, Bach wrote two cantatas for this Sunday, the third after Trinity: Cantata 21 Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis and Cantata 135 Ach Herr, mich armen Sünder.

Read my post from 2017 about Cantata 135 here. Since I wrote that post, a beautiful live video recording by the J.S. Bach Foundation has been released on YouTube. Find it here.

But now about Cantata 21. It is one of Bach’s most well-known cantatas and it gets programmed often because it features several exciting choruses. The version most of us know is with three soloists: a soprano, a tenor, and a bass. Bach first wrote it like that in Weimar and later performed a similar version in Leipzig in 1723, as part of his first year there. However, in 1720, he created a different version, which he performed in Köthen as well as in Hamburg. It is likely that this version was created for a special soprano soloist (possibly Anna Magdalena?), because in this version, Bach assigns all three tenor solos to the soprano as well, thus featuring the soprano in every solo movement. The bass joins her for two duets.

Dorothee Mields

It turns out that the J.S. Bach Foundation decided to perform this 1720 version for their live video series, with soprano Dorothee Mields and bass Peter Kooij. If I had been at that concert in person, I would have joined the whooping and clapping at the end, because it is an outstanding performance by both soloists but also by the chorus. I only discovered this video recording by accident tonight. I had completely missed it when it was released earlier this month. I meant to write a very short blog post today, quickly giving you some links to previous posts and then go to sleep, but I was completely mesmerized by Dorothee Mields’ singing and was unable to close my computer.

In my post from 2016 about Cantata 21, I show how similar the duet from this cantata is to the duet from Cantata 172 (also written in Weimar). When I watched the J.S. Bach Foundation video of Cantata 21 and witnessed Mields’ art of being in sync with her duet partner, I remembered there’s another wonderful video I have wanted to share. It is Dorothee Mields and Alex Potter singing the duet from Cantata 172 in this video by the Bach Akademie Stuttgart that came out at the end of May. I enjoy very much how sensitive Mields and Potter both are to the music and the text, and how beautifully and naturally their voices move together.

Wieneke Gorter, June 19, 2021.