J.S. Bach: The Weimar Years
JS Bach: The Weimar Years brings thoughtful programming and polished performances from Paul Agnew and Les Arts Florissants, pairing three of Bach’s early cantatas with works by Telemann and Johann Michael Bach. While the inclusion of contemporaneous repertoire adds welcome context and variety, the album doesn’t quite outshine existing interpretations. Production choices—particularly a bright top end and forward vocal balance—may divide listeners, and the persistent use of vocal vibrato detracts from the clarity and intimacy some might expect in historically informed performances. Still, there are some affecting musical moments, especially in BWV 12 and the Telemann cantata, that make this a worthwhile listen for those exploring the landscape of early Bach.
This nearly 78-minute disc from the baton (or, more likely, shaping hands) of Paul Agnew includes three works by J.S. Bach—cantatas—alongside a cantata by Telemann (TWV 1:1178) and short chorale by Johann Michael Bach. Well-known Harmonia Mundi artist Benjamin Alard is the soloist in the aforementioned J.M. Bach on a Silbermann organ in Strasbourg. Some years ago, it was announced that Agnew, himself a singer, would become a secondary conductor of Les Arts Florissants, specializing, as you might guess, in vocal works. By now, everyone wants part of the Bach cantata gravy train, and these small installments are pale in comparison to the former projects by Koopman and Suzuki. I can’t speak as to whether or not they are doing a complete cycle or not, but in this case, they are putting Bach’s own music in context to other from the time, which is a novel approach.
The J.S. Bach works include BWV 12, BWV 61, and BWV 182. Of these, I’m most enamored by BWV 12: Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen.
This cantata has been recorded already by the likes of Vox Luminis (Alpha), Akadêmia (ZigZag), and the Balthasar-Neumann Choir and Ensemble (DHM). These performances I chose as counterpoints to stay away from the “big players” in the cantata space, including aforementioned Koopman and Suzuki, but also Gardiner and Leonhardt/Harnoncourt. These more boutique performances are ones I like to seek out, even though I have access to several of the comprehensive sets. Among these performances, all adhere to historical performance practices.
The work is presented in six sung movements, headed by an instrumental sinfonia. The sinfonia gives a nearly vocal role to the oboe. The second movement opens with falling figures from each voice part over a repetitive bass, before things mix together with suspensions and the like, the repetition inherent somewhat clever in how Bach spins things using the now familiar thematic material. The penultimate movement, Sei gertreu, alle Pein includes a solo for trumpet. It’s an interesting aria, as far as Bach’s arias go, and it requires some delicate maneuvering by the tenor.
The most expressive oboe playing comes from the new recording by Les Arts Florissants. Also at the forefront in their recording are the vocals. By comparison, Akadêmia’s recording is far more integrated with instruments and singers. I felt Agnew is cutting things close with his tempo of the first chorus (second movement). There were times I felt the singers might not make it to the end of the phrase; they do, of course, but maybe I’m used to the over minute faster that Akadêmia takes to perform the same movement. Agnew employs a bassoon in the basso continuo for the final aria. The trumpet part also feels more florid and prominent with his group. His tenor, Thomas Hobbs, sounds confidence, with good inflection in his voice.
His singers—from what I can hear especially in the final chorus, employee vibrato, especially the soprano. The alto too, is vibrating wildly in the third movement. Near the end of that movement, the instrumental part, led by the violins, go a touch out of tune.
One should try the third movement recitative from the Vox Luminis album; the lack of vibrato I think is the way that sounds more natural to me. The solution from Akadêmia is not outlaw it completely, but it’s sensitively employed. I think Hengelbrock’s recording with the Balthasar-Neumann group is overall well done, but also uses vibrating singers, which I ultimately don’t like.
Back to Les Arts Florissants, their Telemann, J.M. Bach, and J.S. Bach’s BWV 61 are all built around Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland which has been set multiple times by J.S. Bach; while the Telemann will likely be unfamiliar, the tune will not. The second movement is a tuneful aria for soprano. To my taste, it would have been better realized by a singer who can sing without continually using vibrato. There is a lightness to her voice, which is attractive, and she uses good diction. There’s an equal style applied to the cantata’s fourth movement, an aria for tenor. These two showcase an almost trite approach to aria writing, compared to that by Bach. It’s as if one knows how to, in short doses, appeal to the audience. Wherein with Bach, we get a far more complex tapestry. It’s not surprising that Bach was criticized for his writing, whereas Telemann was often lauded. Telemann wrote for the people, I might suggest; for Bach, it was God.
Hearing Alard on the organ fits in with the program, but the acoustical difference between the Strasbourg church and the more intimate acoustic of the Philharmonie de Paris is striking. In a perfect world, the organ would have been employed throughout.
I’m not a fan of the vocal style again in the opening of Bach’s famous cantata Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland with the vibrato; the small forces I’m not so bothered by, rather than the more full-blooded approach employed by Gardiner in his 2000 pilgrimage project. I do like, however, Agnew’s opening tempo choices. The tempo for the tenor aria, however, seems to be missing the right rhythmic inflection that starts with the string opening. I might suggest a comparison to Gardiner’s 1992 Archiv recording of the same movement from BWV 61, taken faster, I think the piece works better.
That folksy character that opens with the violin and recorder in BWV 182 may have been Bach’s nod to get the audience engaged, maybe even with a foot tap. In going back and forth between multiple recordings, it’s not only the LAF soprano’s voice that sounds strident to me, but the violin and recorder do as well. I’m prepared to say the soprano’s voice is not shrill, but the upper frequencies in this recording may need some tempering by the engineers.
That all said, the opening movement ends well, but I’d have liked to have heard this with a little more push in the tempo to highlight those strong downbeats. Thankfully Agnew takes things quickly in the opening chorus. Here’s where the album’s balance favoring the voices puts all the instrumental parts to the background.
The bass aria, Starkes Lieben is well done both the soloist and the obligato violin. We’ve still got the vibrato going on, but that aside, his diction is again well-captured and I think Edward Grint is an affective singer.
For me in the tenor aria in the cantata’s sixth movement, there’s an intensity in Bach’s fast writing for the bass. Weal and woe! There’s a lack of intensity for me in singing by Hobbs. And how awesome would it have been to have had that Strasbourg organ?
The final movement, with us entering Salem, city of joy, is well-felt. A great tempo, great energy, and with Bach’s best celebratory writing.
Conclusion
As ever, with any repertoire that’s well-recorded already, newcomers to the recorded canon need to bring something novel or simply attempt to out-class previous efforts. For those that like vibrato from their singers, and along with that, Bach done with small forces, may well find something of note in this recording by Les Arts Florissants.
The novelty here, for me, is the artistic direction of these first two volumes and wanting to bring in contemporary works alongside Bach’s. I think there is value in this and I applaud their efforts to connect the well-heeled pieces by Bach alongside those by his contemporaries. For me, the real juice to be squeezed was Telemann’s, who revealed to me a very different stylistic take on the same text. I can see its attractiveness, but ultimately would judge Bach the better composer.
My biggest disappointments with this album have to do with the production side of things, and less with the musical ones. Tempo variations aside, the singers and instrumentalists here with Agnew are more than up to the task at hand. I’m not sure why this recording comes across so much louder than others, or why the upper frequencies are a bit strident for me. I did all of my comparative listening on the same equipment using headphones. For those using headphones, you may be well-warned to turn this album down a few notches, which should help.
For me, this album doesn’t out-class what’s already been recorded, cantata to cantata. But there some nice moments within, as I have tried to point out. If you access to streaming services, I’d recommend auditioning these alongside others for getting a deeper appreciation for Bach’s writing.
But sticking to my guns, I prefer singing, especially so for church music, that uses vibrato as an emotive ornamentation rather than as a continual aspect of vocal production. I did not mention above trying out some of Helmuth Rilling’s recordings, which match vibrato in the voices for the instruments (HR is not an HIPP specialist, alas). While I can’t stand to listen his recordings for any serious length of time, there’s something comforting in hearing vibrato vs. vibrato.
I’d suggest LAF trying to play some of the recorder solos or oboe solos with vibrato to see how nicely they match the quality of those voices. My tongue-in-cheek humor aside, I know for some readers they won’t care as much as I. No shame in that—you may find solace in the other strong qualities of Agnew’s singers here, which as stated, excel in their diction and in some cases, affective style.
N. B. I continue to be bewildered by Harmonia Mundi’s use of a minuscule font in their digital booklets. The actual size of the PDF, which is basically a letter-size sheet presented landscape, works great if I use my Preview.app on my Mac to display it full-screen. However, on a phone, the experience is less than do-able. The images below shows what the experience is like displaying Harmonia Mundi’s booklet on the left, compared to the one from Alpha, from the Vox Luminis album. One is readable, the other is not. I wish they’d just stop. (For reference, these are set to the same “zoom” level).
