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Reviewer: Huntley
Dent
It’s an event when John Eliot
Gardiner, arguably one of the world’s leading authorities among Bach
conductors, records the St. Matthew Passion, having waited close to 30 years
since his original recording for DG Archiv in 1989. The earlier recording
was a landmark. The new one, made under concert conditions from the
cathedral in Pisa, doesn’t depart markedly, so it’s not going to have the
same impact. Gardiner in the 1980s owed much of his fame to raising the
performance standards in HIP singing and playing. This achievement is
undeniable, no matter whether or not you’d rank him among the greatest of
Bach interpreters on disc. In the UK there’s almost no doubt about Gardiner the Great, but for those of us who disagree, the argument has become moot. Period practice long ago revolutionized our perception of Bach, and when the older reverential tradition was swept away, with it went interpretative standards such as soulfulness, emotional complexity, and musical depth. These are subjective terms to begin with, and none is everlasting. Furtwängler possessed every virtue a conductor of his time could possess, but his Bach sounds antediluvian today. Bach was fervently religious; so were his musicians and singers; so was his audience. But how this devotion, so powerfully expressed in Bach’s two Passions, translated into performance style is arguable. For the moment the cool, precise efficiency of Gardiner’s two recordings holds the high ground, and I can respect that. If anything, the remake of the St. Matthew is even smoother and more mellifluous.
Back in 1990 reviewing the
first Gardiner recording (Fanfare 13:4), Ralph Lucano began by noting the
overall timing of 157 minutes: “If we could time-warp back twenty or thirty
years and examine the duration of this St. Matthew, we’d likely conclude it
was abridged. It isn’t, of course. Klemperer’s traversal lasts forty-five
minutes longer; Solti’s, about twenty.” At 161 minutes, the new version is
scarcely different, and Gardiner’s quick tempos are now the norm. The roles
of the Evangelist and Jesus were undertaken by more distinguished soloists,
Anthony Rolfe-Johnson and Andreas Schmidt, than on the remake. Seven singers
covered the arias in 1989, including soloists on the order of Barbara Bonney,
Anne Sophie von Otter, and Olaf Bär. On the new version the arias are
divided among nine step-outs from the chorus, of varying quality but none
stellar. Six other choral members get name recognition. It’s hard to imagine
that Bach ever enjoyed such a wealth of soloists, but Gardiner has been
touring with his Bach forces as a community endeavor, so a democracy of
voices fits in. The excellent English Baroque Soloists and Monteverdi Choir
remain the same as before, with a change of trebles to the illustrious
Trinity Boys Choir—they appear in three numbers, the great opening chorus
along with No. 29, the chorale “O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde gross” that ends
Part I, and No. 68, the concluding chorus, “Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder.”
These are considered the cornerstone choral movements.
Lucano succinctly captured the
overall effect of Gardiner’s conception: “This is an invigorating,
supercharged St. Matthew, and it sweeps the listener along in a great flood
of drama.” That’s the tradeoff many modern Bach interpreters make for
eliminating reverence. For listeners who either grew up with the period
approach or who have adapted to it, reverence may still be present. One
crucial thing hasn’t changed. It’s still customary for the Evangelist and
Jesus to be expressive, and the skillful, sweet-toned tenor James Gilchrist
fits the bill. His restraint, as a replacement for Evangelists who agonize
over every line, is a plus. As Jesus, bass Stephen Loges has an ordinary
voice and a rather matter-of-fact delivery at times. The sanctity of the
role is diminished, but Loges slides easily into the overall dramatic thrust
of the performance. Listening to a male alto (Reginald Mobley) skip cheerfully through the first aria, “Buss und Reu,” as recorders tootle along, is a pleasant musical experience abstractly. Does it matter that the two words in the title mean “repentance and remorse”? They might as well mean “buns with jam.” The chorales, far from sounding prayerful, are detached and conversational. An upbeat treatment of Jesus’ passion seems frankly ridiculous to me, and in this performance, which is meticulous on every musical point, the glow of perpetual sunbeams must be considered by any prospective buyer. Admittedly, the traditional approach to the St. Matthew Passion could make for a woeful slog, but tragedy isn’t meant to be cheerful. Bach’s genius was to balance pathos, drama, beauty, communal faith, and intimate expressions of the soul. He evoked a sublime world of redemption that transcends suffering, and this, after all, is the Christian worldview. For me, the ultimate problem with Gardiner’s Bach isn’t that it’s wrong but only one-dimensional. Lucano ends his review with the same reservation: “Gardiner’s St. Matthew is absorbing, exciting, and recorded in excellent sound. I fear its impact will prove ephemeral, however, because something essential is missing.”
Complete
texts with English and French translations. The packaging is a deluxe
hardbound book with inserts for the two discs. | |
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