“Bach is my God,” conductor Raphael Pichon said recently. And indeed, if you are Matthew Passion you would almost believe that Bach is a prophet of salvation from above.
But that is not only due to Bach, Pichon and Pygmalion proved on Saturday. In the three-part series ‘De Wegen van Bach’, which Pichon will present in the Amsterdam Muziekgebouw in the coming months, he will put the spotlight on Bach’s musical genealogy. To do this, he delved into the musical archives that Bach inherited from his father, and which he himself expanded further. The central idea: Bach did not appear out of the blue, but was the result of various musical influences. The musical family tree now started at the roots; Bach’s spiritual and literal ancestors.
Dedication
It is tempting to portray all those composers as mere preludes to Bach’s greatness. So many musicians have studied Bach’s music that countless brilliant interpretations of his music are also available. Bach’s less famous relatives do not have that privilege; confronted with a Johann Ludwig Bach, as a musician you almost have to start all over again. It sometimes leads to some bloodless performances.
You couldn’t blame Pichon for that. In his hands, all music seems to have been touched by the genius of JS Bach. Devotion again characterized both his dramaturgical programming — a kind of vespers service with rapid succession of choral parts, arias and recitatives — and the excellence of the Ensemble Pygmalion.
Powder coating
The choral sound of Pygmalion alone is unique: mix the muscle power of John Eliot Gardiner’s Monteverdi Choir with the crystal tone of The Sixteen, add a dash of Graindelavoix and you get a substance that is coarse and smooth at the same time – like powder coating. In Pichon’s quiet tempi it was as if you were allowed to touch every note.
Consistently strong was the music of Johann Christoph Bach (1642-1703), great-uncle of Johann Sebastian. An early highlight was his Herr, wende dich und sei mir gnädig. “My God, don’t take me away from half my life,” the ensemble gasped, as if it were his very last hope. “Hear me.”
The solo contributions were also exceptional. Countertenor William Shelton drew tears with his rounded, emotional delivery, particularly in Johann Christoph Bach’s aria Ah, that’s Wassers gnug hatte. “If only I had enough water in my head to weep day and night,” reads the baroque text. Shelton bent what may sound exaggerated and crude into an alienating, lucid sadness.
Himmel, du weißt meine Plagen by Philipp Heinrich Erlebach was intended by Pichon for tenor Zachary Wilder, who was unable to attend due to illness. But replacement Laurence Kilsby, accompanied on baroque harp, turned out to be an unexpected showstopper. Erlebach’s score is full of embellishments and melodic excursions, but for Kilsby they always came as a surprise, as if he had to recite a poem, but was always too moved to continue reading.
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