Luogo e data di registrazione		Lutherse Kerk, Haarlem (Holland) - 1/8 marzo 1989
	Registrazione: live / studio		studio
	Recording Supervision		Wolf Erichson
	Engineer		Stephan Schellmann | Andreas Neubronner
	Prima Edizione LP		Nessuna
	Edizione CD		Deutsche Harmonia Mundi (BMG) | LC 0761 | RD 77848 | 3 CDs - durata 74' 40" - 51' 10" - 46' 32" | (p) 1990 | DDD
	Cover Art		Matthias Gruenewald, Isenheimer Altar: "Kreuzigung" (c.1513-15115), Colmar, Unterlinden Museum
	Note		-

BACH: PASSION ACCORDING TO ST. MATTHEW “With this work a new world opened up to us“, wrote the actor singer Eduard Devrient, recalling the momentous revival of the St. Matthew Passion some forty years earlier in 1829, when he was joined by Mendelssohn, then barely out of his teens yet fully able and willing to shoulder the burden of a stupendous musical challenge. Bach’s masterpiece was already one hundred years old but could look back on little more than one or two unsatisfactory performances, scant recognition, and not a note in print. The purifying freshness of that deep-frozen music, as apparent now as it was to Devrient’s fellow-performers and listeners, stems mainly from elements to which he rightly called attention: “That the impersonation of the several characters of the Gospel by different voices formed the core of the work struck us with deep amazement, the antiquity of this practice in old church music being long forgotten. The dramatic treatment that arose from it, the overwhelming power of the choruses, above all the wondrous declamation of the part of Christ... had with every rehearsal increased our astonishment and admiration at the greatness of the setting.“ Bach’s bedrock, solid and deep, may correspond to a custom first indicated in liturgical manuscripts of the late 13th century, such as an English (Sarum) Gradual in the library of the Conservatorio di Musica at Parma. The text of the Passion is there divided among five singers, with a separate voice for that of Christ on the cross. An even more important innovation occurs in a manuscript compiled in the 1430s and associated with St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. In the Passions according to St. Luke and St. Matthew, the words of Christ's followers and adversaries are set for the first time in three-part harmony. As for the dramatic urgency of Bach’s double-choir settings, a notable foreshadowing of this is found in a late 15th-century Passion (Modena, Estense Library) whose turba (crowd) sections are divided between two volumes, one for each side of the choir. Subsequent Passion settings assumed a wide variety of forms and styles. Some presented the entire text, including narration, in simple or complex polyphony, while others alternated a sung narrative with the crowd sections in harmony. In addition to the individual texts of the Gospels, there was a also available a summa Passionis consisting of a conflate of all four, and this was often set to music in Latin or German. The Protestant tradition gained much from the attentions of Johannes Walter, Antonio Scandello, and Joachim à Burck in the 16th century, and was even more greatly enhanced by the later settings of Melchior Vulpius, Christoph Schultze, and above all Heinrich Schütz. His three Passions, memorable for their occasionally Italianate harmonies and their highly expressive recitative tones, stand in a class of their own. Although Bach could have chosen from at least four main types and styles of Passion music, he was unswerving in his devotion to the Passion oratorio, which most nearly approached operatic style and laid great emphasis on original texts, supplied in this instance by Picander. The St. Matthew Passion was first performed at St. Thomas Church, Leipzig, on Good Friday, 15 April 1729. Some scholars postulate a première two years earlier, in 1727, and it is indeed possible that certain movements originated in an earlier Passion dating from the Weimar years. The lasting impression it made on the composer Ethel Smyth, studying in Leipzig in 1879, may well have been typical of the annual performance at St. Thomas Church, and is best summed up in her own words. “I count it as one of the great privileges vouchsafed me that I learned to love the Passion in that place of places, the prestige and acoustic properties of which make up for the dreariness of its architecture. In one of the side galleries, close up to the orchestra, which was grouped aloft in front of the organ, sat the Thomaner schoolboys, representatives of the very choir of which Bach was Cantor. I suppose realizing these things has something to do with it, but never, so it seems to me, is the Chorale in the opening chorus so overwhelming as when trumpeted forth with the pride of lawful heirs by the Thomaner Chor. “I despair of giving an idea of the devoutness of the audience. Generally speaking, most of the inhabitants of Leipzig, including nearly everyone I knew, were either exceedingly conventional churchgoers or unbelievers, but on this occasion the dull mist of religious indifference appeared to lift for the time being. It was not only that the church seemed flooded with the living presence of Bach, but you felt as if the Passion itself, in that heart-rending, consoling portrayal, was being lived through as at no other moment of their lives by every soul in the vast congregation.“ In this recording of the Passion we enjoy a degree of authenticity not remotely possible in the previous century. This is mainly, although not exclusively, due to a correct Instrumentarium and techniques of performance, all of which are here scrupulously observed. In the woodwind section, for example, Bach calls for a crossflute (flauto traverso) in d’, except for the opening movement of Part 2 when ’low fourth’ flutes must have been used in order to take care of the occasional lower notes. The vibrant and metallic sound of the oboe da caccia helps to express tragedy and anguish, as when the dark agony of Gethsemane is portrayed (no. 19), when Christ stands condemned before Pilate (nos. 48 and 49) or hangs upon the cross (nos. 59 and 60), or finally at the Tomb (no. 65). Bach’s use of the oboe d’amore is no less imaginative, especially in the soprano recitative and aria nos. 12 and 13 (“Wiewohl mein Herz“; “Ich will dir mein Herze schenken“), where the two veiled-sounding instruments in thirds express to perfection the close ties between Mankind and the Savior, moving from heartfelt tears to a true commingling of grace and devotion. If there is one other instrument whose obbligato must have given Bach’s audience cause to wonder it is surely the viola da gamba, familiar enough in a chamber context yet almost wholly unknown in Passion music. Perhaps it was played by a welcome visitor from Cöthen, Christian Ferdinand Abel, who was a member of the musical staff there, and whose son Carl Friedrich would be known in London as one of the last virtuosi on that instrument. The color it lends to the bass aria “Komm, süsses Kreuz“ (no. 57) could never be supplied by a violoncello, for in range of compass and emotion it is unsurpassed. These unusual instruments are matched and balanced by others of remarkable sonority and beauty, so that together with the rich continuo section Bach’s intentions are accurately and persuasively realized. The sound of the boys‘ choir also contributes in a very special way to this modern yet historical evocation of a timbre that enables us to share his thoughts and ideas about one of the noblest themes he ever ventured to interpret for us. Denis Stevens