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Reviewer: George
Chien By a curious coincidence this recording came to my attention almost simultaneously with an op-ed article about editing in the New York Times. The gist of the article was that successful creative efforts are rarely, if ever, unchanged from their original impulses; they are the result of intensive re-evaluation and revision. Peter Seymour’s St. Matthew Passion is another example of modern musicology’s fascination with first thoughts. It’s the inspiration vs. perspiration equivalent of the old nature vs. nurture argument. In the realm of music we tend to contrast Mozart with Beethoven. Beethoven’s famous notebooks are testaments to the composer’s struggles to transform his ideas into masterworks. Mozart left few sketches. Still, it would be a disservice to him to assume that he did not carefully work out his masterpieces in his mind before committing them to paper. By and large, though, while scholars have corrected obvious errors in their printed scores, they haven’t produced a large body of alternate versions of the mature works of either composer (except, of course, for Mozart’s Requiem). Owing to his indecisive nature, Bruckner’s symphonies are undoubtedly the exemplar for musicological meddling and confusing alternate versions. Brahms avoided the issue by torching whatever he deemed unworthy. The so-called original version of Fauré’s Requiem came as a revelation, but recordings of early versions of Vaughan Williams’s “London” Symphony and Sibelius’s Fifth, to name but two, only confirmed that their composers in fact knew a better thing when they gained some perspective. Bach’s works are fertile candidates for musicological legerdemain. Bach was a practical composer and an endless self-plagiarizer. He altered many of his works to satisfy changed circumstances, while many others, especially his concertos, exist only in his own transcriptions of now lost originals. It’s not always obvious which of his changes were dictated by necessity and which he considered improvements. The St. Matthew Passion was first sung probably in 1727 and revived two years later. It was performed only twice more in Bach’s lifetime, in 1736 and around 1742. The score and parts from the debut performance are lost, so the primary source is a copy of the score made as late as 1744 by Bach’s student (and son-in-law) Johann Christoph Altnickol. Signum’s note acknowledges a number of errors and omissions in it. Some were found by comparing the Altnickol copy with Bach’s magnificent presentation score, made in 1736. There are, of course, differences between the two versions, the most obvious of which was the substitution of a new choral fantasia for the original chorale at the end of Part One. Other changes involve less substantial details such as ornamentation, many of which might have been intended in the original version but conveyed verbally to the performers. The major differences between the two versions can be safely assumed to have been intended as improvements. Many of the lesser changes may have been clarifications or corrections. In all likelihood, to Bach the definitive St. Matthew Passion was the 1736 version. Since Seymour is a firm believer in the chamber-style performance of Bach’s vocal music, the Yorkshire Baroque Soloists are just that. There are 13 singers in all—two quartets acting as choirs, three sopranos making up the angelic chorus, and two soloists, Charles Daniels as Evangelist and Johnny Herford as Peter, High Priest, and Pilate. Peter Harvey has triple duties, as Christus, bass soloist, and member of the first choir, and Bethan Thomas is Pilate’s wife, Maids I and II, and a member of the angelic trio. The instrumental consort is minimal as well—one player per part in each of the two orchestras, plus an organist and Seymour on the harpsichord, a total of 21 players, including the conductor. Such a small ensemble would have been unthinkable a half-century ago. Whether it would have been unthinkable three centuries ago (before amplification) is still subject to speculation. The performance is crisp and clean, the tempos well judged, the spirit of the score deftly projected. Daniels is a fine Evangelist, and the other soloists are commendable as well, although soprano Bethany Seymour’s extreme vibrato can seem out of place. I confess that I miss the sound of a larger choral group and especially the boys’ voices in opening number. Didn’t Bach have a boys’ choir at his disposal? Bottom line: This is a recommendable performance, but it’s meant for specialists. Unless you are a collector of multiple St. Matthew Passions, stick with the 1736 edition. Bach would have been amazed and gratified by the number and quality of performances currently available on recordings. John Eliot Gardiner’s Archiv version still tops my list.
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