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1 CD -
ACC 25301 - (p) 2005
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KANTATEN FÜR DAS GANZE
KIRCHENJAHR
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ADVENTSZEIT |
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BWV |
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ADVENT |
Volume |
1. Advent
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61 |
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Nun
komm, der Heiden Heiland
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9 |
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36 |
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Schwingt
freudig euch empor
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9 |
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62 |
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Nun
komm, der Heiden Heiland
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9 |
4. Advent
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132 |
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Bereitet
die Wege, bereitet die Bahn!
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9 |
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WEIHNACHTSZEIT |
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BWV |
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CHRISTMASTIDE |
Volume |
1. Weihnachtstag |
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91 |
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Gelobet
seist du, Jesu Christ |
14 |
2. Weihnachtstag |
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57 |
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Selig
ist der Mann
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14 |
3. Weihnachtstag |
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151 |
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Süßer
Trost, mein Jesus kömmt
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14 |
1. Sonntag nach
Weihnachten
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122 |
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Das
neugeborne Kindelein |
14 |
Neujahr |
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16 |
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Herr
Gott, dich loben wir
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4 |
1. Sonntag nach
Neujahr |
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153 |
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Schau,
lieber Gott, wie meine Feind
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4 |
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EPIPHANIASZEIT |
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BWV |
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EPIPHANY SEASON
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Volume |
Epiphanias |
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65 |
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Sie
werden aus Saba alle kommen
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4 |
1. Sonntag nach
Epiphanias |
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154 |
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Mein
liebster Jesus ist verloren
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4 |
2. Sonntag nach
Epiphanias |
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13 |
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Meine
Seufzer, meine Tränen
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8 |
3. Sonntag nach
Epiphanias |
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73 |
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Herr,
wie du willt, so schicks mit mir
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8 |
4. Sonntag nach
Epiphanias |
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81 |
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Jesus
schläft, was soll ich hoffen?
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8 |
Mariä Reinigung
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82 |
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Ich habe
genug
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3 |
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VOR-PASSION |
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BWV |
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PRE-LENTEN SEASON
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Volume |
Septuagesimæ |
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144 |
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Nimm,
was dein ist, und gehe in
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8 |
Sexagesimæ |
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18 |
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Gleichwie
der Regen und Schnee vom Himmel fällt
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6 |
Estomihi |
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23 |
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Du
wahrer Gott und Davids Sohn
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6 |
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PASSIONSZEIT |
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BWV |
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PASSIONTIDE |
Volume |
Invocavit |
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1 |
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Wie
schön leuchtet der Morgenstern
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6 |
Oculi |
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54 |
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Wiederstehe
doch der Sünde
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17 |
Palmarum |
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182 |
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Himmelskönig,
sei willkommen
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18 |
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ÖSTERLICHE
FREUDENZEIT
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BWV |
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EASTERTIDE |
Volume |
Ostersonntag |
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249 |
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Kommt,
eilet und laufet ihr fl#chtigen F#ße
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13 |
2. Osterfesttag |
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6 |
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Bleib
bei uns, denn es will Abend werden
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13 |
3. Osterfesttag |
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134 |
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Ein
Herz, das seinen Jesum lebend weiß
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17 |
Quasimodogeniti |
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67 |
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Halt im
Gedächtnis Jesum Christ
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11 |
Misericordias
Domini
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85 |
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Ich bin
ein guter Hirt
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11 |
Jubilate |
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12 |
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Weinen,
Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen
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11 |
Cantate |
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108 |
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Es ist
euch gut, daß ich hingehe
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10 |
Rogate |
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86 |
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Wahrlich,
wahrlich, ich sage euch
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10 |
Ascensio |
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11 |
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Lobet
Gott in seinen Reichen
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10 |
Exaudi |
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44 |
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Sie
werden euch in den Bann tun
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10 |
1. Pfingstfesttag
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34 |
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O ewiges
Feuer, o Ursprung der Liebe
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16 |
2. Pfingstfesttag |
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173 |
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Erhöhtes
Fleisch und Blut
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16 |
3. Pfingstfesttag |
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184 |
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Erwünschtes
Freudenlicht
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16 |
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TRINITATISZEIT |
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BWV |
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TRINITY AND ORDINARY TIME
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Volume |
Trinitatis |
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129 |
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Gelobet
sei der Herr, mein Gott
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16 |
1. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis
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20 |
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O
Evigkeit, du Donnerwort
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7 |
2. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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2 |
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Ach
Gott, vom Himmel sieh darein
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7 |
Visitatio |
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10 |
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Meine
Seel erhebt den Herren
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7 |
3. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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135
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Ach
Herr, mich armen Sünder
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2
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4. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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177 |
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Ich ruf
zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ
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2 |
5. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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93 |
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Wer nur
den lieben Gott läßt walten
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2 |
6. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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9 |
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Es ist
das Heil uns kommen her
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18 |
7. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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186 |
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Ärgre
dich, o Seele, nicht
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18 |
8. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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178 |
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Wo Gott
der Herr nicht bei uns hält
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3 |
9. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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168 |
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Tue
Rechnung! Donnerwort
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18 |
10. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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102 |
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Herr,
deine Augen sehen nach dem Glauben
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3 |
11. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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179 |
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Siehe
zu, daß deine Gottesfurcht nicht
Heuchelei sei
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5 |
12. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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35 |
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Geist
und Seele wird verwirret
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5 |
13. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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164 |
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Ihr, die
ihr euch von Christo nennet
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5 |
14. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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17 |
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Wer Dank
opfert, der preiset mich
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5 |
15. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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138 |
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Warum
betrübst du dich, mein Herz
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12 |
16. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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27 |
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Wer
weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende?
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12 |
17. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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47 |
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Wer sich
selbst erhöhet, der soll erniedriget
werden
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12 |
18. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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96 |
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Herr
Christ, der einge Gottessohn
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12 |
19. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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56 |
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Ich will
den Kreuzstab gerne tragen
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1 |
20. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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180 |
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Schmücke
dich, o liebe Seele
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1 |
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ENDE DES
KIRCHENJAHRES
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BWV |
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END OF THE LITURGICAL YEAR
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Volume |
21. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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98 |
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Was Gott
tut, das ist wohlgetan
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1 |
22. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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55 |
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Ich
armer Mensch, ich Sündenknecht
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1 |
23. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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52 |
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Falsche
Welt, dir trau ich nicht!
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15 |
24. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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60 |
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O
Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort
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15 |
25. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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116 |
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Du
Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ
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15 |
26. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis |
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70 |
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Wachet!
betet! betet! wachet!
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18 |
27. Sonntag nach
Trinitatis
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140
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Wachet
auf, ruft uns die Stimme
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15
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Bach Cantatas for the
Complete Liturgical Year
The project of recording one cantata
composed for each Sunday and high
feast of the liturgical year
has
been spread over several concert
seasons, during each of which three
to four cantatas
were
given concert performances and were
recorded. As far as possible this
was made
during
the relevant time of the year for
which the cantatas were written.
GENERAL
INTRODUCTION
getting the best from
listening to the Bach cantatas
It
seems to me essential that those
really wanting to
absorb and appreciate these cantatas
should turn their
attention to the respective text as
dispassionately and
open-heartedly as possible before
listening to
each work.
The librettists and
composers of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries took it for
granted that the
congregation for which the cantatas
were intended were
familiar with the themes they dealt
with, since the texts
were written for liturgical use. They
therefore always followed upon the
prescribed readings
from the Old and New Testaments. By
nature they were a
fabric of paraphrases and
commentaries on
those readings, and as such they
were given
personal, poetic treatment.
The majority of
cantata texts from Bach’s time and sphere
of influence have a ‘collage’
structure made up
of at least two layers of different
origins. Almost all
the cantatas contain one or more
stanzas of a Lutheran
hymn (mostly from the seventeenth
century, sometimes
from the late sixteenth century, in
more or less
unchanged form) which are
integrated with the newly written
texts. Being able to recognize this double-layered
structure then helps us to “feel” it as well. More
than just a structural process, the “collage” often allows
us to better perceive the core of the central ideas.
There are a number of
variations on this basic structure; in the texts of
the oratorios and passions (which are very closely
related to the cantata texts), there is yet a third layer:
fragments of the Gospel text (in Luther’s
translation). There are also
examples of cantata texts in which
fragments of Old-Testament texts form a third layer –
occurring mostly at the beginning of the
cantatas, as a kind of “statement
of the theme”. The fact
that, unlike the hymns and the new texts, these
two forms of text (Gospels and Old Testament) are not
presented in poetically revised form but as prose
(that is, without definite metre and rhyme), lends
these “triple-layered” texts not only greater structural
complexity but also a directly perceptible degree
of declamatory variety.
A special case is represented by
the CHORALE
CANTATA,
which in turn may be divided into
two types. In the first type the
entire text consists of a
selection of stanzas from a
familiar hymn (i.e. without “new
texts”), while in the second type
mostly only the beginning and end
of the cantata text are stanzas
taken over literally from an
existing hymn, while the rest
comprises paraphrases of other
stanzas of the same hymn.
In 1724 Bach composed cantatas of
that kind for an almost complete
liturgical year, filling in the
gaps at a later time.
Insight into the structure and
perception of the various sources
of the individual parts provides
clarity about the text in its
entirety; it is important to
recognize how the poet linked the
parts with one another. It is
obvious that knowledge of and
sympathy with articles of
Christian faith are of great
assistance in this. But whether
(or how deeply) we are touched by
the verses will ultimately depend
solely upon the librettist’s
poetic talent.
Because the librettist repeatedly
presented aspects of generally
familiar leitmotifs in these
texts, he sought to emphasize them
in a personal and compelling
manner by applying every stylistic
device available to poetry and
rhetoric at the time. The informed
assessment and conscious enjoyment
of such poesy is in my opinion
unthinkable without a certain
amount of practice and the ability
to recognize at least the basic
principles underlying it.
In what follows I will try to
provide those who have little
experience in this subject with
certain key concepts, with the aid
of which they will be in a
position to recognize the context
and quality of these texts. Since
one of the hallmarks of all
Baroque art is that a certain
degree of priority is assigned to
the formal treatment (the “how?”)
over the originality of content
(the “what?”), I intend to
concentrate on the assessment and
enjoyment of the formal treatment
more than on the assessment of the
content of the texts - modern
listeners will all have their own
personal relationships to
spirituality in general and to the
Lutheran tradition (to which Bach
belonged) in particular.
The hymns and chorales (the
‘simpler’ layer of our cantata
texts) had the primary function of
edifying the congregation with
pious thoughts after the reading
from the Gospels. Definite rhythm
(e.g. poetic metre, see below) and
musically interesting rhyme have
from time immemorial been an
invaluable aid to memorizing – to
being able to keep something in
one’s head. Rhythm and rhyme have
therefore always played an
important role in hymns (just as
in children’s songs).
In the other layer, that of the
newly written texts (recitatives
and arias), the same tools (metre
and rhyme) are present, but here
they have often been developed
into sophisticated artifices of
various kinds which go far beyond
“edifying” or “catechizing” the
congregation.
In these texts the librettists
delved deeper into the toolbox of
ars poetica, not shying
away from implementing their own
ideas or from using metaphors
based mostly on ones in the Holy
Scriptures or in classical
writings. The listener was assumed
to be able to follow the countless
allusions to them and to understand their sense.
Art was at that time anyway much
more closely associated with
culture, which was “above” lowly
“nature”; and when homage was
rendered to ‘nature’ in the art
of the early eighteenth century,
it must be understood that it
was not done in the ‘Romantic’
sense, nature rather being seen
as an idealized model and not as
the ‘raw material’ from which
all that is good comes.
Realistic naturalism was unknown
in art, the word “artificial”
commonly having the same
positive denotation as
“artistic” and being used even
to describe the excellence of
craftsmanship.
That makes it easy to understand
that in order to serve their art
the librettists used the arsenal
of poetic devices freely, with
conviction and imagination. RHYTHM determines
the course of the verses: the
choice and alternation of the
various metrical feet (the
rhythmic ‘cells’ which are
repeated in the syllables of a
verse) and the verse structures
aim directly at the deepening of
expressiveness; thus the ideal
form at the same time becomes
virtually a part of the content.
As in the hymns of earlier
decades, the following metrical
feet predominate:
- the IAMB
(one short syllable and one long
syllable)
- the TROCHEE
(one long and one
short)
- the DACTYL
(one long and two
short)
These metres (and others, like
the spondee, longlong) all came
down to us from classical Greek
and have pervaded the poetry of
the entire Western world for
several millennia, though in our
languages, the long-short
dichotomy has rather come to
mean strong-weak stress.
Each metre tends to have its own
“psychological effect”. Iambic
metre predominates in the
cantata texts, mostly in
peaceful and regular narration;
trochaic metre often seems more
powerful, urgent, sometimes
almost imperious; dactylic metre
creates the impression of sudden
acceleration and motion by
virtue of its strong beat
followed by two weak ones (the
strong-weak alternation of the
iamb and trochee being analogous
to the two-to-one pattern of
triple time in music), whereas
the – rare – spondee, composed of
two equally strong beats,
creates a noticeably more
melancholy impression.
A little practice is required to
recognize the metres, but one
soon becomes accustomed to
noticing them and is rewarded
with a greater feel for the
verses. I should like to urge
listeners to get the knack of
reading this poetry through
silently or aloud in the
rhythmically correct manner;
doing so is the only way to
perceive its inner structure and
fully enjoy its beautiful
aspects.
The following examples from
Bach’s cantata texts may be used
for reference whilst practising
the technique:
IAMBIC METRE:
(short-long)
Cantata 55, of Aria
no. 1:
Ich armer Mensch,
ich Sündenknecht,
Ich geh vor Gottes
Angesichte
Mit Furcht und Zittern
zum Gerichte,
Er ist gerecht,
ich ungerecht
TROCHAIC METRE: (long-short)
Cantata 55, Aria no. 3, lines
3 to 6:
Lass die Tränen
dich erweichen,
Lass sie dir zu Herzen
reichen;
Lass um Jesu
Christi willen
Deinen Zorn
des Eifers stillen
DACTYLIC METRE:
(long-short-short)
(Each line begins on a short
syllable on the ‘upbeat’ of the
preceding bar before the first
complete dactyl; this is not in
keeping with classical Greek
Poetry)
- Cantata
19, opening chorus (lines 2
and 3):
Die rasende Schlange,
der höllische Drache
Stürmt wider den
Himmel mit wütender
Rache
- Cantata
21 contains an aria which
‘skips’ along in dactyls
throughout (no. 10):
Erfreue dich, Seele,
erfreue dich, Herze,
Entweiche nun, Kummer,
verschwinde nun, Schmerze!
Verwandle dich, Weinen,
in lauteren Wein!
Es wird nun mein
Ächzen ein Jauchzen
mir sein.
(and so on in three more
verses)
The following examples
illustrate the CHANGE OF THE BASIC RHYTHM (i.e.
the metre) within a fragment,
both from Cantata 56 “Ich
will den Kreuzstab gerne
tragen”:
- In Aria no. 1 the
pilgrimage through life “to God
in the Promised Land” is told in
iambic verse; suddenly (so to
speak upon “arriving” there),
the metre becomes dactylic and
we impulsively, musically, sense
thereby man’s joy at finding
salvation in God:
Ich will den Kreuzstab
gerne tragen,
Es kömmt von Gottes
lieber Hand,
Der führet mich
nach meinen Plagen
Zu Gott in das
gelobte Land
(iambic thus far)
Da leg ich den Kummer
auf einmal ins Grab
(dactylic from
here)
Da wischt mir die
Tränen mein Heiland
selbst ab.
Interestingly, the poet (or was
it J. S . Bach himself?) used
the last two (dactylic) lines
once again at the end of the
recitative no. 4 (which, like
the above aria, is otherwise
iambic), again achieving a
similar effect directly before
the closing chorale.
- In the third line of Aria
no. 3 the poet switches
from trochaic to iambic metre,
returning to trochaic in the
closing line; that creates a
structure which intensifies the
expressiveness of the whole
aria; the iambic lines (3 to 6)
form a definite unit which is
framed by the three essentially
related trochaic lines (1, 2 and
7):
Endlich, endlich
wird mein Joch
Wieder von
mir weichen müssen.
(trochaic thus far)
Da krieg ich in
dem Herren Kraft,
(iambic from here)
Da hab ich Adlers
Eigenschaft,
Da fahr ich auf
von dieser Erden
Und laufe sonder
matt zu werden.
O gescheh
es heute noch!
(again trochaic)
An unchanging metre can
naturally become monotonous, but
the skillful librettist is able
to use these regular rhythms
ingeniously, to bend them, to
distort them. Sometimes, for
example, important words or
syllables are placed in weak
(short, unaccented) positions;
that, in an intelligent
declamation, actually gives them
a special, artistically elevated
value - by virtue of being the
exception to the rule, this
unexpected device suddenly
heightens the listener’s
raptness.
- An example in the first
Aria of Cantata 55:
Ich armer Mensch,
ich Sündenknecht
(line 1, etc.)
Er ist gerecht,
ich ungerecht
(line 4)
In this clearly iambic context,
the pronoun “ich” (I) is twice
assigned a weak stress in the
first line (the “short” instead
of the “long” syllables of the
iambic feet). In the 4th line,
both “Er” (He, i.e. God) and
“ich” are similarly weak. An
unsophisticated, schematic
declamation would render these
four syllables as relatively
unimportant. However, it is all
too clear that the poet’s
repetition of ‘ich’ in contrast
to ‘Er’ in the fourth line is
intended to intensify ‘ich’; the
sinner is here contrasted with
the just God. Both instances of
ich in the first line should
therefore deliberately be
treated as an exception and
given a certain degree of
expansion and weight (even
silently in reading!); the same
applies to Er and ich in the
fourth line.
These examples will without
doubt enable one to realize how
correct declamation can help to
shape the content of a text.
- EXCLAMATIONS (like “Ach!”, “O”
and “Wie”), and monosyllabic
words like “nun” - “so” –
“welch” etc. also very often
occur at points of weak stress,
although in declamation they
must frequently convey a certain
degree of passion, which at the
same time serves to avoid
monotony.
- PATHOS-LADEN APPEALS, like
“Herr” and “Gott”, as well as
monosyllabic contractions like
“komm”, “zeig” etc. also
frequently occur at such points
of ‘weak’ stress. Correct
declamation will then also
immediately emphasize and
exploit such cases.
Many other mechanisms and
beautiful aspects that cannot be
mentioned here will reveal
themselves as one makes progress
in reading the texts in this
manner. Intensive involvement
with the subject will make the
building blocks of Baroque
poetry and rhetoric easy to
recognize, and it is fun to
follow that path!
A final marginal note:
J. S . Bach involved himself
with this poetry with
astonishing energy and supreme
skill; for him it was modern and
alive, and he must also have had
a thorough knowledge of its laws
and subtleties.
Nonetheless, the musical
language of Bach and his time
was so highly developed and so
uniquely complex that composers
could not afford (nor did they
want) to be slaves to poetic
rules. For that reason, many
poetic peculiarities that make
up the charm of these verses had
to be sacrificed in setting them
to music because of
compositional considerations;
whereas the prosody (the
rhythmic flow of words) in the
recitatives is very close to
‘spoken’ declamation, in arias,
duets and polyphonic “choruses”
they naturally depart
considerably from the declaimed
pattern; there the laws of music
are given priority over those of
poetry.
Why then, one will ask, bother
with this long introduction to
specifically poetic aspects
(metrical feet etc.), if they so
often receive relatively little
attention in the composers’
musical settings? Because we
should nevertheless try to
experience these texts in the
same way as composers and
worshippers experienced them at
the time.
Only then can we truly
appreciate them. To listen “to
the music only”, without that
kind of insight into
the texts, seems me a deplorable
self-imposed restriction.
Logical structuring in rhythmic
cells is a very frequent
procedure in Bach’s music; many
of these rhythmic cells are
simple like metrical feet. Bach
sometimes takes the liberty of
changing the metre of the
original text, giving it another
rhythmic unit in his music.
For example, in Cantata 180
(Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele),
where the iambic metre of the
text in the tenor aria “Ermuntre
dich: dein Heiland
klopft” (be lively, your Saviour
knocks) is replaced in the
obbligato flute part and also
in the tenor solo with a
rhythmic impetus that is
clearly of dactylic nature.
The cheering quality of the
text is expressed in a much
livelier manner in this new
rhythm than in the poet’s
iambic metre. Here Bach worked
as a poet and “corrected” his
librettist.
In other cases, Bach follows
the metrical units of the text
precisely, using them as the
basis for erecting a large
edifce (what better example
could there be than the
beginning of the St
Matthew Passion: “Kommt,
ihr Töchter, helft
mir klagen”,
etc.?) Trochaic rhythm
(long-short) dominates the
whole opening chorus, being
omnipresent in its original
form in the bass of the
orchestra and taken up now and
then by the violas. In the
choral parts it is often
veiled by lengthy melismas
before returning clearly at “...helft
mir klagen”,
and later at “Holz
zum Kreuze selber
tra(gen)”.
We herewith conclude the
general textual commentary.
THE USE OF
VOCAL FORCES IN BACH'S
MUSIC
Musicological
research in recent decades
(above all by Joshua Rifkin
and other musicians like
Andrew Parrott) has made it
clear that J.S. Bach was not
thinking of a choir in the
modern sense when he wrote
his cantatas, passions,
masses, etc. Works of that
kind were then invariably
performed with a single
singer (“concertista”) for
each part (soprano, alto,
tenor, bass). These
“concertisti” sang not only
the solo arias and
recitatives relevant to
their voices, but also came
together to form the
“choir”, where necessary.
In rare cases, this quartet
of ‘concertisti’ was
reinforced by another
quartet, the ‘ripieno
singers’, who doubled the
concertisti only in the
ensemble sections (which is
what ripieno implies).
Bichoral works of this genre
therefore called for two
groups of four
‘concertisti’.
That was the normal way to
perform such church music in
Bach’s time and sphere of
influence; the solo forces
were taken for granted in
this context, and only the
vocally much simpler
contrapuntal works of the
old tradition were performed
with (often multiple)
doubling of the parts.
Many virtuosic passages in
the “choral sections” of
Bach’s cantatas etc. are in
my opinion also proof of the
fact that this was not
choral music in the modern
sense – just as a Haydn
string quartet, for example,
is not “music for string
orchestra”!
The terms “choir” and
“chorus” generally referred
to a “group” in the
seventeenth and early
eighteenth centuries, and
did not specifically imply a
doubling of the parts; a
solo quartet (even one
mixing voices and
instruments!) is also
referred to in certain
contexts as a “choir”.
Ultimately this music can
show its true face only if
performed by soloists. Since
the “conductor” in the
modern sense is dispensable
in that kind of performance
(I conduct, where necessary,
from the first violin),
these cantatas and related
pieces gain greatly in terms
of collective devotional
power.
ON THE
INSTRUMENTAL FORCES,
ESPECIALLY THE CONTINUO
GROUP
It is my conviction that
thorough critical
consideration must be given
to the automatic way in
which the cello “naturally”
forms part of the basso
continuo section in Baroque
music nowadays.
The word “violoncello”
occurs rather seldom in the
scores of the seventeenth
and early eighteenth
centuries; it was a specific
indication which was not
connected per se with the
general basso continuo, but
rather denoted a solo
function. The first
‘permanent’ role assigned to
the instrument was in the
“concertino”, i.e. the solo
group comprising two violins
and a “violoncello” which
was pitted against the
larger tutti section in the
concerto grosso.
The usual instrument given
the general bass role
(fondamento) was the
“violone”, which means
“large viola”. The viola
family had two branches: the
viola da
gamba and the viola da braccio.
Both were made in various sizes,
from descant (soprano) to bass.
Large instruments of both
families were assigned the
function of the ‘violone’, often
indiscriminately; in the absence
of norms, general use was made
of instruments of various sizes,
forms, tunings and pitches (some
sounded at “8-foot” pitch as
written, others sounded an
octave lower at “16-foot”
pitch). In the Italy of Corelli
(Rome, around 1700), the common
8-foot bass was called “violone”
and the octave bass
“contrabasso”. In works
demanding large orchestral
forces, the instruments were
listed as “violini, violette (=
violas), violoni, contrabassi”.
The “violoncello” clearly did
not belong to the usual
orchestral arsenal!
It is not clear exactly when
this smaller “violoncello”
(diminutive of violone!) became
obligatory in the various areas
of Europe. It is also not clear
how the cello was held – between
the legs as we know it, or
almost horizontally across the
chest, supported on (or against)
the right shoulder, as the
“Violoncello da Spalla alla
moderna” was described by
Bismantova of Ferrara in 1694.
The scores themselves do not
elucidate the matter.
I very much tend to regard the
leg position as having come
later than the “spalla
(shoulder) position”. As late as
1756, in the section in which he
describes the viola da gamba,
Leopold Mozart says the
instrument is ‘of course held
between the legs’ (as the name
suggests). He goes on: “Nowadays
the cello is also held
between the legs”, which clearly
implies that that was not the
case in earlier times. And
Adlung (Erfurt, 1758) writes two
years later: “The violoncello is
also called viola da spalla”
(the names ‘viola da spalla’ and
‘violoncello da spalla’ referred
to the same instrument).
In 1713 Mattheson praised the
viola da spalla at some length
because of its easiness to play
and strongly incisive” sound,
declaring that “nothing hinders
or prevents its resonance in the
slightest”. Brossard’s
Dictionnaire de musique of 1703
compared the “violoncelle des
Italiens” with the “quinte de
violon” in France – which again
points very clearly in the
direction of “spalla”, since the
quinte de violon was the largest
of the three violas in Lully’s
orchestra – all of which were
performed on the arm (the
“spalla position” is essentially
a consequence of the arm
position: since the instrument
was too large to rest on the
left shoulder or arm like the
smaller da-braccio instruments,
it was held horizontally across
the chest against the right
shoulder, sometimes with the aid
of a sling).
In Weimar in 1708, the year in
which Bach became court
organist, the “violoncello” was
likewise described as a “da
spalla” instrument.
The violoncello da spalla had
four strings and mostly used the
same tuning as today’s cello;
there is also (occasional)
mention of it having five
strings, in which
case a high e’ string was added.
That variant completely
corresponds with the so-called
“viola pomposa” which, according
to a report from around 1770,
had been ‘invented’ by J. S .
Bach in Leipzig in the 1720s.
Bach himself never actually uses
the name, but his Cello
Suite no. 6 requires its
tuning of CGdae’ (as do some of
the arias with violoncello
piccolo in the cantatas). The
five-string da-spalla instrument
combines the normal tunings of
the CGda cello and of the Gdae’
‘cello piccolo’.
It is increasingly assumed that
Bach conceived his “Cello
Suites” (and the solo violin
works) whilst still in Weimar;
it is certainly true that the
parts for the violoncello
piccolo solo passages in the
later Leipzig cantatas were
either written on separate
sheets or in the first violin
part, but never in the violone
or basso continuo parts. That
points once again to the “cello”
being held in the spalla
position in Bach’s environment.
The conclusion that his famous Cello
Suites and all his other
cello parts were intended for
the “violoncello da spalla” can
now in my opinion hardly be
called into question.
We put these ideas into
practice. Throughout our
recordings and versions, we use
– when ever violoncello is asked
for specifically by Bach – an
instrument built by Dmitry
Badiarov (Brussels) in 2004,
which is similar to the copies
of the “viola pomposa” in the
Leipzig and Brussels museums.
While designed for five strings,
it is also very well suited for
use as a four-string cello (or
cello piccolo).
The decision to use that
instrument is completely in
keeping with our feeling that
the needs of such small forces
(vocal and instrumental) are
best served by an 8-foot
“violone” (but an instrument
considerably larger than today’s
cello). For example, the 8-foot
violone of the ‘braccio family’
was the instrument that was
called ‘basse de violon’ in
France; in other parts of Europe
it was simply called ‘basso’ or
‘violone’. We use such
instruments; the 8-foot violone
of the gamba family is also used
in some cantatas.
The other stringed instruments
we use comprise 2 (or 3) first
violins, 2 second violins, 1
viola. This combination is
repeatedly found in the numerous
complete original sets of the
parts of Bach’s cantatas
which have come down to us.
Sigiswald
Kuijken
Translation: J &
M Berridge
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