Document

  1983
    March 1983
        Choral and Song
                Bach Mass in B minor.

Bach Mass in B minor, BWV232. Judith Nelson (sop) Julianne Baird (sop) Jeffrey Dooley (alto) Drew Minter (alto) Frank Hoffmeister (ten) Edmund Brownless (ten) Jan Opalach (bass) Andrew Walker Schultze (bass) Bach Ensemble / Joshua Rifkin.

Nonesuch digital (Full price) (LP) D79036 (two records, nas) (Cassette) D4-79036 (2) Notes, text and translation included.

This important and deeply fascinating recording differs from every other you will have heard of the B minor Mass, in a fundamental way: the choruses are, with a single exception, sung once voice to a part. The notion may seem absurd to anyone used to thinking of the work as one of the great choral masterpieces of music, one demanding a large choir and a substantial weight of tone if its grandeur is to be realized. First, one should hear the performance; second, consider the arguments behind it. Let me start with a (necessarily) very brief and incomplete account of the latter.

Joshua Rifkin, who conducts, presented his arguments for one-to-a-part performance of Bach's choral works at a musicological congress just over a year ago, when they were challenged by certain other Bach scholars; he has since offered them in print, in the American High Fidelity (last October) and The Musical Times (last November), and a different interpretation of the evidence he put forward was subsequently given by Professor Robert Marshall, in each of those journals. (The reader is referred especially to The Musical Times for a documented argument; to the January 1983 issue for a documented argument; to the January 1983 issue for a rebuttal, and to the March issue for Rifkin's response.) Briefly, Rifkin argues that the surviving sources—Bach's actual performing materials—were clearly designed for a single set of singers, and that Bach's normal practice was to have his music sung one to a part: his usual establishment had eight singers, of whom some were required to play instruments rather than sing. To some degree Rifkin's argument depends on the proposition, which not all other scholars have been disposed to accept, that two (or more) singers never shared the same partbook. The basic issue remains in dispute. What we do know is that Bach, ideally, wanted a choir of at least twelve to draw upon for normal Thomaskirche duties, and that he probably didn't get that many; and it is more than likely that on some occasions at least he had to manage with a very small choir indeed.

Whatever the truth behind all this, however, there is one thing of which I feel certain: that, to Bach, the sound of this performance would have rung far truer than that of any other performance most of us will have heard—with a choir of hundreds, or fifty, or even thirty. For the clarity and the sweetness of the sound puts the music in a fresh and on the whole very convincing light; even if Bach had his hoped-for three to a part the actual quality of sound, granted good enough singers, would be closer in texture to this than to the effect of a modern chamber choir of thirty or forty. There are passages, like the semiquaver runs at "voluntatis" in the "Et in terra pax", or the fugal entries in the "Cum sancto Spiritu", where even the best modern choir sounds clumsy (and the worst elephantine), while here the music goes perfectly happily with these skilful, light and athletic solo singers. Then, while the massive sound of a large choir submerges Bach's highly wrought polyphony because of the inevitable fuzziness of its lines (inevitable in some measure even with a small choir, for good acoustical reasons), here the intertwinnings are beautifully clear and the ear can readily follow each strand of the counterpoint. It is also very much more expressive: there is a madrigalian intensity to the chromatic music of the opening Kyrie, for example, and equally to the "Et incarnatus est" and perhaps above all the "Crucifixus" with its profoundly pathetic appoggiaturas. There are numerous passages that make sense as they never did before: the lead from the "Domine Deus" into the "Qui tollis", with a much lesser change of texture; the a cappella counterpoint of the "Confiteor", greatly clarified, as is the similar texture of the first Credo; the bass entry at "et iterum venturus" in the "Et resurrexit" (usually a moment to dread, as choral basses galumph through it, but here a perfectly plausible solo); and the jubilance of the triplets in the Sanctus. It may be wrong, but it works amazingly well!

Some of the big, celebratory D major choruses are not quite so persuasive. It isn't just a question of balance, for the five singers—here as many as eight, in fact, for there is eight-part writing—hold out well against the small orchestra, trumpets and all (without, I am assured, any artificial help from the engineers), but simply that they lack the sheer weight to convey what the music seems, at least to our habituated ears, to be asking of them. What one is required to accept, in listening to this performance, is that the B minor Mass is not the kind of work most performances implicity presume it to be: not a grand, formal, collective act of worship, but a more personal, more intimate one.

The choice of tempos and the manner of the orchestral playing are of a piece with this approach. Almost all tempos are by conventional standards quick, as indeed the use of a small group permits and encourages. I do not however think there is any loss of gravity, though certainly there is none of the grandiose Romantic solemnity that one often hears. At Rifkin's speeds the opening Kyries sounds quite unexpectedly graceful, the Gloria joyous, the "Et in terra pax" unusually tender, the second Credo just a shade hectic, the Sanctus brilliant and noble. Both movements of the Agnus are done at a more measured pace, but in general the quickness applies equally to the solo members, as will be noticed at the "Christe eleison" and the "Et in unum", for example. The elegiac movements for chorus do not forfeit their emotional weight because of these tempos, as long as the listener has no expectation (as he should not have in this context) of a luxuriant, funereal approach. Without romantic rallentandos, Rifkin shapes the cadences delicately and with feeling, an object lesson to 'authentic' performers in how to mould the music without introducing expression of a foreign or unstylish kind.

He has an excellent orchestra, with quite outstanding strings—the violin obbligato in "Laudamus te" is exquisitely done, clear and sweet in tone, refined in articulation; the wind obligatos later are also admirable, with pretty good intonation. I enjoyed the tender flute, the forthright horn, the refined oboes d'amore. And the shaping of the bass lines shows a real awareness of the direction of Bach's harmonies and their tensions. The orchestra is small—seven strings (the violone used sparingly for 16-foot tone) and the necessary wind.

Of the singers, only the name of the first soprano, Judith Nelson, will be generally familiar, and she needs no recommendation: I need merely say that she sings with characteristic precision and gentle warmth. The second, Julianne baird, I admired specially for her exemplary clarity of line in the choral numbers; her singing of the "Laudamus te" is a model too with its refinement of line and articulation and the delicacy of the mordents. The tenor, Frank Hoffmeister, is also very impressive for his lightness, accuracy and smoothness—the Benedictus is beautifully done. Jeffrey Dooley sings the alto part, and does as well as one can expect here of a male singer: here and there the "Qui sedes" seems a little heavy in phrasing, by comparison with the other soloists, but the Agnus is certainly persuasive. I find the bass Jan Opalach a shade ungrateful—pleasantly light-toned, quite graceful in "Et in Spiritum Sanctum", drawing a clear, firm line in the choruses, but producing a grainy, not very musical sound. His text in the "Quoniam" by the way is much modified: this is one of several movements in which Rifkin's research has evidently produced significant departures from the established text. All the singers' intonation is remarkably true: indeed one of the special joys of this recording lies in the exceptional purity of the sustained chords, vocal and instrumental. And the digital sound is first class.

It will, I think, be clear that I have enjoyed this rethought version of the B minor Mass. It will not be everybody's performance. But even if some of its predicates are not right it has a great deal to offer, and I urge everyone who loves Bach to hear it: a refreshing experience, and one that will make you aware of numerous things in this great score that previous, conventional performances have left obscure.

SS



		This important and deeply fascinating recording differs from every other you will have heard of the B minor Mass, in a fundamental way: the choruses are, with a single exception, sung once voice to a part. The notion may seem absurd to anyone used to thinking of the work as one of the great choral masterpieces of music, one demanding a large choir and a substantial weight of tone if its grandeur is to be realized. First, one should hear the performance; second, consider the arguments behind it. Let me start with a (necessarily) very brief and incomplete account of the latter.



		Joshua Rifkin, who conducts, presented his arguments for one-to-a-part performance of Bach's choral works at a musicological congress just over a year ago, when they were challenged by certain other Bach scholars; he has since offered them in print, in the American High Fidelity (last October) and The Musical Times (last November), and a different interpretation of the evidence he put forward was subsequently given by Professor Robert Marshall, in each of those journals. (The reader is referred especially to The Musical Times for a documented argument; to the January 1983 issue for a documented argument; to the January 1983 issue for a rebuttal, and to the March issue for Rifkin's response.) Briefly, Rifkin argues that the surviving sources—Bach's actual performing materials—were clearly designed for a single set of singers, and that Bach's normal practice was to have his music sung one to a part: his usual establishment had eight singers, of whom some were required to play instruments rather than sing. To some degree Rifkin's argument depends on the proposition, which not all other scholars have been disposed to accept, that two (or more) singers never shared the same partbook. The basic issue remains in dispute. What we do know is that Bach, ideally, wanted a choir of at least twelve to draw upon for normal Thomaskirche duties, and that he probably didn't get that many; and it is more than likely that on some occasions at least he had to manage with a very small choir indeed.



		Whatever the truth behind all this, however, there is one thing of which I feel certain: that, to Bach, the sound of this performance would have rung far truer than that of any other performance most of us will have heard—with a choir of hundreds, or fifty, or even thirty. For the clarity and the sweetness of the sound puts the music in a fresh and on the whole very convincing light; even if Bach had his hoped-for three to a part the actual quality of sound, granted good enough singers, would be closer in texture to this than to the effect of a modern chamber choir of thirty or forty. There are passages, like the semiquaver runs at "voluntatis" in the "Et in terra pax", or the fugal entries in the "Cum sancto Spiritu", where even the best modern choir sounds clumsy (and the worst elephantine), while here the music goes perfectly happily with these skilful, light and athletic solo singers. Then, while the massive sound of a large choir submerges Bach's highly wrought polyphony because of the inevitable fuzziness of its lines (inevitable in some measure even with a small choir, for good acoustical reasons), here the intertwinnings are beautifully clear and the ear can readily follow each strand of the counterpoint. It is also very much more expressive: there is a madrigalian intensity to the chromatic music of the opening Kyrie, for example, and equally to the "Et incarnatus est" and perhaps above all the "Crucifixus" with its profoundly pathetic appoggiaturas. There are numerous passages that make sense as they never did before: the lead from the "Domine Deus" into the "Qui tollis", with a much lesser change of texture; the a cappella counterpoint of the "Confiteor", greatly clarified, as is the similar texture of the first Credo; the bass entry at "et iterum venturus" in the "Et resurrexit" (usually a moment to dread, as choral basses galumph through it, but here a perfectly plausible solo); and the jubilance of the triplets in the Sanctus. It may be wrong, but it works amazingly well!



		Some of the big, celebratory D major choruses are not quite so persuasive. It isn't just a question of balance, for the five singers—here as many as eight, in fact, for there is eight-part writing—hold out well against the small orchestra, trumpets and all (without, I am assured, any artificial help from the engineers), but simply that they lack the sheer weight to convey what the music seems, at least to our habituated ears, to be asking of them. What one is required to accept, in listening to this performance, is that the B minor Mass is not the kind of work most performances implicity presume it to be: not a grand, formal, collective act of worship, but a more personal, more intimate one.



		The choice of tempos and the manner of the orchestral playing are of a piece with this approach. Almost all tempos are by conventional standards quick, as indeed the use of a small group permits and encourages. I do not however think there is any loss of gravity, though certainly there is none of the grandiose Romantic solemnity that one often hears. At Rifkin's speeds the opening Kyries sounds quite unexpectedly graceful, the Gloria joyous, the "Et in terra pax" unusually tender, the second Credo just a shade hectic, the Sanctus brilliant and noble. Both movements of the Agnus are done at a more measured pace, but in general the quickness applies equally to the solo members, as will be noticed at the "Christe eleison" and the "Et in unum", for example. The elegiac movements for chorus do not forfeit their emotional weight because of these tempos, as long as the listener has no expectation (as he should not have in this context) of a luxuriant, funereal approach. Without romantic rallentandos, Rifkin shapes the cadences delicately and with feeling, an object lesson to 'authentic' performers in how to mould the music without introducing expression of a foreign or unstylish kind.



		He has an excellent orchestra, with quite outstanding strings—the violin obbligato in "Laudamus te" is exquisitely done, clear and sweet in tone, refined in articulation; the wind obligatos later are also admirable, with pretty good intonation. I enjoyed the tender flute, the forthright horn, the refined oboes d'amore. And the shaping of the bass lines shows a real awareness of the direction of Bach's harmonies and their tensions. The orchestra is small—seven strings (the violone used sparingly for 16-foot tone) and the necessary wind.



		Of the singers, only the name of the first soprano, Judith Nelson, will be generally familiar, and she needs no recommendation: I need merely say that she sings with characteristic precision and gentle warmth. The second, Julianne baird, I admired specially for her exemplary clarity of line in the choral numbers; her singing of the "Laudamus te" is a model too with its refinement of line and articulation and the delicacy of the mordents. The tenor, Frank Hoffmeister, is also very impressive for his lightness, accuracy and smoothness—the Benedictus is beautifully done. Jeffrey Dooley sings the alto part, and does as well as one can expect here of a male singer: here and there the "Qui sedes" seems a little heavy in phrasing, by comparison with the other soloists, but the Agnus is certainly persuasive. I find the bass Jan Opalach a shade ungrateful—pleasantly light-toned, quite graceful in "Et in Spiritum Sanctum", drawing a clear, firm line in the choruses, but producing a grainy, not very musical sound. His text in the "Quoniam" by the way is much modified: this is one of several movements in which Rifkin's research has evidently produced significant departures from the established text. All the singers' intonation is remarkably true: indeed one of the special joys of this recording lies in the exceptional purity of the sustained chords, vocal and instrumental. And the digital sound is first class.



		It will, I think, be clear that I have enjoyed this rethought version of the B minor Mass. It will not be everybody's performance. But even if some of its predicates are not right it has a great deal to offer, and I urge everyone who loves Bach to hear it: a refreshing experience, and one that will make you aware of numerous things in this great score that previous, conventional performances have left obscure.