Bach Mass in B minor, BWV232. Barbara Schlick (sop); Kai Wessel (alto); Guy de Mey (ten); Klaus Mertens (bass); Amsterdam Baroque Choir and Orchestra / Ton Koopman.

Erato (Full price) (CD) 4509-98478-2 (two discs: 107 minutes: DDD). Text and translation included.

There are now 14 'historically aware' versions of the B minor Mass currently available, ranging from the one-to-a-part performances of Rifkin and Parrott to those which convey a cleverly disguised admiration for the full-textured, rousing strains of the comparatively mainstream approaches of Richter, Munchinger, Marriner and Schreier. In this category go Gardiner, Hickox and most recently, Harry Christophers. Simplistic categorization certainly, but one can observe at least two more broad ideologies. Firstly, those who have ruled historical performance out of court, such as Giulini, Solti and Shaw, and jealously guard their right to record Bach with symphony orchestras and choral societies. Secondly, those unclassifiable accounts where period performance has encouraged an inward-looking, almost meditational vision of the Mass: the gentle eloquence and reverential control of Leonhardt and Herreweghe, where transparency of design and homogeneity of articulation are achieved without going down the minimalist, self-regarding path of single-part Bach. Of course, although one may point out trends, no one approach carries a right of passage to the inner sanctuaries of this remarkable work.

Where Koopman's new account fits into the above scheme is hard to say. More often than not the choral sound glows with an amiable poise similar to Herreweghe's refined and motet-like version, though Koopman gives the fully scored movements a punchiness which recalls Gardiner and Christophers. Yet there is little diversity in approach here beyond the external characteristics of the choral movements. Koopman is often a master of instrumental idioms (his recording of Bach's Orchestral Suites, Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, is a clear favourite) but I am less convinced by his vocal direction, let alone the soloists who seem, with rare exceptions, unmotivated to explore the wealth of nuance which the arias afford. Barbara Schlick is the only one who really colours the music and brings it to life and even she, in "Et in unum Dominum", appears distracted by the inhibitions of her partner, Kai Wessel, whose tonal range is habitually limited to the type of hootiness which is unfashionable these days. Klaus Mertens, is a sensitive Bachian (as witnessed in his rendering of the cantata, Ich habe genug on Accent, 3/94) but the central pillar, "Quoniam", is an alarmingly uneventful post-prandial stroll. This movement encapsulates much that is disappointing about this recording. Even the opening strains of the Kyrie invite little of the breadth and inner strength which become the terms of reference for a meaningful performance. Mannered articulation is one thing—and there are a good number of curious affectations here—but blandness is less defensible; too many movements, like the opening Credo, lack mystery and fervour.

If this is beginning to sound like a hatchet job, I should say immediately that there are some isolated moments of great beauty such as "Domine Deus" where Schlick and Guy de Mey are joined by some exquisitely delicate phrasing from flautist, Wilbert Hazelzet. The choir, too, have their day, especially in the "Et incarnatus" and the "Crucifixus", where Koopman gives the music space to breathe and lets the cultivated textures of his forces emerge; only the "Resurrexit" of the full-scored versions can boast that. Elsewhere, for example in the Gloria, impatience and fussiness give an impression of mild neurosis, reinforced by searing trumpets totally at odds with the more mellow timbre which is usually Koopman's hallmark.

If this version has failed to live up to expectations, then the musicians have not been helped by an ill-defined recorded sound, particularly noticeable in the choral movements where only the fine soprano line is consistently well caught.

JF-A