After three years of abstinence, full halls are buzzing with exuberance these days. Finally a passion of Bach live again. If you want, you can ‘just’ choose from over 200 performances of the Matthäus or Johannes – just a little less than before corona. But even then there is a passion of choice for everyone: an adventurous one, as by the Dutch Wind Ensemble (with dolls) or one (co) sung by Alzheimer’s patients. The many amateur choirs have also picked up their passion traditions again. Conductor Pieter Jan Leusink, passion record holder despite allegations from #metoo, has his number this year Matthäussen even screwed up to 33†
For this comparison we chose four performances: three baroque orchestras and the Kon. Concertgebouw Orchestra, twice a Matthäustwice a John Passion† One conclusion you could think of beforehand: each passion has its own surprises and moments of beauty, each its weaknesses and idiosyncrasies. But finding the differences, hearing that one singer sing that one aria more beautiful than ever: for the tens of thousands who hear a passion every year, it’s all part of the charm and ritual.
Debut Shunske Sato
The Netherlands Bach Society plays a key role in the emergence of our (unique) passion tradition: in 1922 it played a first role in the Grote Kerk in Naarden. Matthäus with the aim of “making the spirit of the music speak as purely as possible.” In a church, moreover: more intimate and authentic than the Concertgebouw Amsterdam.
The Bach Society’s centenary now coincides with a debut: artistic director-violinist Shunske Sato (in office since 2018) conducts his first Matthäus† History meets future, and so does the performance. The musicians and singers are experienced in Bach: the arias – which Sato does not conduct – all sound excellent. But not all tempo choices are convincing (also in relation to each other) and the choice to mix the voice groups within the choir raises questions: more individual singing sometimes leads to more power (inspired chorales!), but occasionally individual voices sting. above the overall sound. One finding is the approach of the choir ‘Was gehet uns das an?’, usually fast and agitated, here lethargic. Jesus condemned to death, yes shackles, what is that to us?
All in all, this debutMatthäus the impression that Sato is still well dressed as a conductor: fresh ideas of his own, but not all of them are equally balanced. The sound that the musicians return does not yet reflect everywhere what Sato seems to want. But wherever he picks up his violin or the equally wonderful oboist Oleg Podyomov stirs, it’s as if a light goes on somewhere. there is this Matthäus the most beautiful. The beautiful tenor Daniel Johannsen is an evangelist to remember: nimble, not intent on epating, but a truly gifted storyteller.
Intimate ‘John’
Intimate, spontaneous and penetratingly unadorned was the John Passion of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. Tenor Mark Padmore led the way as a dramatic and committed evangelist. Emotions might run high, but the humanity of his timbre acted like a catalysing castor oil.
As a ‘conductor’, Padmore kept a low profile: his micro-Johannes was chamber music in everything.
Baritone Raoul Steffani stood as Christ in front of the stage, Padmore as part of a team of soloist singers with big voices behind the excellent 18-piece ensemble. Steffani doesn’t have a throbbing bass register, but his Christ was beautiful: load-bearing and elegant. The ‘Ecce quomodo moritur Justus’ (‘See how the just die, and no one takes it to heart’ ) by Jacobus Gallus (1550-1591) sung immediately after the closing chorale was an unexpected, masterly addition: a bull’s eye and effective as a means broadening the theme of suffering.
Opera Evangelist
In the John Passion of the Concertgebouw Orchestra, the cast presented a bit disappoint. Evangelist Maximilian Schmitt used the Great Hall for a grandiose approach: because of its timbre and the abundance of vibrato you had the feeling that he could switch to a Mozart aria at any moment and emotion inflation occurred.
The orchestra sometimes played beautifully (cellist Horsch, oboist Ogrintchouk). But Andrew Manze, who came in for a sick Trevor Pinnock, was unable to maintain the tension everywhere with his circling gestures and relatively slow, sometimes somewhat drawn-like tempi (opening chorus). The choir (Laurens Collegium) was relatively large and excelled in some of the folk screaming choirs (‘Lasset uns’). Overall Manze’s attention seemed to be mainly focused on the high strings and winds, on the melodic entanglements. Below that you missed something: depth, intermediate voices, nuances.
Choir culture at its best
It is precisely in these elements that the performance by the Orchestra of the 18th Century and Cappella Amsterdam under Daniel Reuss, their Matthäus is also a taste of choral culture at its very best.
Reuss knows exactly what he wants: his tempi and agogics – closely following Jesus’ last moments – are dynamic and fluid. It leads to wonderful moments. The perfect balance and the interplay of lines in the opening chorus, the poignant prepositional dissonance in ‘Buss und Reu’, the atmospheric orchestral colors in ‘Nun ist mein Jesus nun gefangen’.
The closing chorus ‘Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder’, not the place where you expect emotion as a passion habitué, actually brings tears to your eyes. Reuss knows how to bring text and content to life so well.
Also read: As if you are experiencing the Passion for the first time