Luogo e data di registrazione		Hakuju Hall, Tokyo (Japan) - September 2015
	Registrazione: live / studio		studio
	Producer | Engineer		Jens Braun (Take5 Music Production) | Fabian Frank | Akimi Hayashi
	Edizione CD		BIS - BIS-2191 SACD - (1 CD) - durata 63' 25" - (p) & (c) 2016 - DDD
	Note		-

COMMENTARY

Mer hahn en neue Oberkeet (Peasant Cantata), BWV 212 (We have a new governor) Among Bach’s secular cantatas, two works have long enjoyed particular popularity: the socalled ‘Coffee Cantata’ Schweigt stille, plaudert nicht (BWV211) and the ‘Peasant Cantata’ Mer hahn en neue Oberkeet (We have a new governor). In both works Bach displays his ‘folk’ side. The Coffee Cantata presented a humorous version of an argument within a bourgeois family of the period. In the Peasant Cantata, however, Bach transports his listeners into a farming environment. The action is set at the manor of Klein-Zschocher, south-west of Leipzig. Here, on 30th August 1742, the cantata was performed in connection with the accession to the estate of the nobleman Carl Heinrich von Dieskau (1706–82). Dieskau had inherited the estate in the spring of 1742, and on 30th August that year Klein-Zschocher celebrated the customary hereditary homage. This was also the 36th birthday of the new lord of the manor. There were therefore twice as many reasons to celebrate. The libretto is by Bach’s regular Leipzig collaborator, Christian Friedrich Henrici (1700–64), who as an author went by the name of Picander although in fact he was a tax officer and local tax collector by profession. Dieskau was ‘Kreis hauptmann’ (regional governor) and, as head of the tax authority, Henrici’s boss. The cantata may, therefore, have been written at Henrici/Picander’s instigation. Picander’s libretto is based on exchanges between a peasant couple. The plot is simple: it all starts with a scene from the homage festivities, at which the peasant girl Mieke and a young farmer, enlivened by the free beer, flirt with each other. Picander skilfully uses the Upper Saxon dialect as a means of depicting the milieu. This also means that the slightly coarse aspect of the couple’s exchanges is toned down, and the lewd references to the guests and the ‘Kammerherr’ (Chamberlain) himself into which Mieke and her admirer soon descend are perceived as merry and ironical. For example the local priest is mentioned, reportedly scowling at the joyful goings-on (second movement). Even Dieskau himself is not spared: ‘Er weiß so gut als wir und auch wohl besser, wie schön ein bisschen Dahlen schmeckt’ (‘He knows as well as we do, indeed better, how fine a little smooching tastes’ – move ment 3) – an allusion that possibly did not please Dieskau’s ‘noble Lady’. She herself is later praised: she is ‘nicht ein prinkel stolz’ (‘not the slightest bit proud’), ‘recht fromm, recht wirtlich und genau’ (‘very pious, hospitable and proper’) and so thrifty that she can turn a ‘Fledermaus’ (a small coin) into four thalers (movement 11). Later the hope is expressed that the ‘Schöne’ (‘fair lady’) may have ‘viel Söhne’ (‘many sons’; movement 18) – a wish that is not entirely free of irony, as the Dieskaus had hitherto had only daugh ters, five in all. In addition there are all sorts of references to regional politics and tax collection. It was to Dieskau’s credit that in the most recent ‘Werbung’ (‘recruitment’) Klein-Zschocher had escaped lightly (movement 9), and that the neighbouring villages of Knauthain and Cospuden, which also belonged to the estate, were spared the ‘caducken Schocken’ (‘extra land-dues’, i.e. the property tax for fallow land; movement 10). In movement 5 a ‘Schösser’ (a tax collector and official), who is evidently a guest at the festivities, gets what is coming to him on account of the imposition of a ‘neu Schock’ (‘new tax’: two and a half thalers) ‘wenn man den Finger kaum ins kalte Wasser steckt’ (‘before we’ve hardly got our fingers wet’, i.e. by fishing without authorization). Later a certain ‘Herr Ludwig’ and an accountant are mentioned, who on this occasion – clearly contrary to their usual practice – are forced to visit the tavern together with the peasants (movement 23). There is no parsimony with positive words about their lords and masters. Mieke sets about singing ‘der Obrigkeit zu Ehren ein neues Liedchen’ (‘in honour of our rulers, a new song’; movement 13) and performs a charming aria expressing good wishes for Klein-Zschocher (movement 14). But her friend remarks disparagingly that it is just a song ‘nach der Städter Weise’ (‘like they sing in town’); ‘wir Bauern singen nicht so leise’ (‘We peasants don’t sing so gently’; movement 15), and immediately strikes up a bois terous song in his own coarse style, in which he wishes the Chamberlain ten thousand ducats and a good glass of wine every day (movement 16). Now it is Mieke’s turn to criti cize him when she also launches ironically into a peasant-style song (move ment 18). The farmer then decides ‘auch was Städtisches zu singen’ (‘to sing something in the town style too’): a song full of good wishes for growth and prosperity (movement 20). This little stylistic dispute – ‘urban’ versus ‘peasant’ music – brings the action to an end: every one goes to the tavern, where the bagpipes are already droning, and gives three cheers for Dieskau and his family (movement 24). In Bach’s music we can plainly hear his enjoyment of how the scene is described in the libretto. With a small basic complement of two violins (mostly playing in unison), one viola and continuo, Bach may have had typical village music in mind; in passing these instruments are joined by a flute (movement 14) and hunting horn (movements 16 and 18). The folk style already characterizes the instrumental intro duction, a ‘patchwork overture’ in which we hear a sequence of quite disparate sections, in the manner of a potpourri. From time to time Bach quotes folk songs: in movement 3, as the peasant couple is flirting, there is an instru mental reference to ‘Mit mir und dir ins Federbett, mit mir und dir ins Stroh’ (‘With thee and me in the featherbed, with thee and me in the hay’) or in the ‘ducat aria’ (movement 16), which alludes to the popular tune ‘Was helfen mir tausend Dukaten, wenn sie versoffen sind’ (‘What good are a thousand ducats to me if they are all drunk away’). Bach also strikes a folk note in the two duets at the beginning and end of his ‘Cantate bur lesque’ and, like the overture, the arias also contain the rhythms of dances that were popular at the time such as the polonaise (movement 4), sarabande (movement 8, quoting the famous ‘Follia’ melody), mazurka (movement 12) and minuet (movement 14). Bach quotes himself in the ‘urban’ bass aria ‘Dein Wachs tum sei feste’ (‘May your growth be strong’; movement 20): it is a parody of Pan’s aria ‘Zu Tanze, zu Sprunge, so wackelt das Herz’ (‘In dancing and leaping my heart shakes’ from the cantata Geschwinde, ihr wirbelnden Winde (Swift, you swirling winds, BWV 201). Probably the similarly ‘urban’ soprano aria ‘Klein-Zschocher müsse so zart und süße’ (‘Klein-Zschocher should be as tender and sweet’; movement 14) is also derived from an earlier work. In addition we know that the festivities in Klein-Zschocher ended with a firework display. And apparently there was more music, too: according to the musicologist Hugo Riemann (1849–1919), a now lost trio sonata by Johann Gottlieb Graun (1702/03–71) bore the date ‘30th August 1742’ in Bach’s handwriting. Non sa che sia dolore (He does not know what sorrow is), BWV 209 The texts of Bach’s secular cantatas, like those of his sacred cantatas, are usually in German. The two surviving Italian cantatas associated with his name – Non sa che sia dolore and Amore traditore – are striking exceptions, and have long been regarded with scepticism by Bach biographers and researchers. As both of the cantatas have only survived as copies, we do not have documentary verification of Bach’s authorship. Moreover, stylistic considerations should be taken into account. The two pieces, however, are very different cases, and researchers have thus approached them with varying levels of interest. The problem of Non sa che sia dolore has been occupying Bach researchers for a good hundred years, although they have so far failed to provide definitive clarification concerning its authenticity and the circumstances of its composition. A particular incentive for examining this work is provided by the text –which is by no means an unproblematic one. Although its meaning is partly obscured by poetic images and allusions, it nevertheless allows the outline of the work’s motivation and purpose to emerge: the cantata is a farewell to a young scholar who is in the process of taking leave of his existing life and friends, and who can count on finding important patrons when he reaches the end of his journey, in Ansbach in Franconia. Who might this young scholar have been? One of the more recent hypotheses has suggested Lorenz Christoph Mizler (1709–78), founder of the ‘Sozietät der musikalischen Wissenschaften‘ (‘Corresponding Society of the Musical Sciences’) that is often associated with his name – and of which Bach became a member in 1747. Mizler came from near Ansbach, and had studied in Leipzig where he became a pupil of Bach’s. When he took his Master’s degree in 1734, he dedicated his dissertation (published the same year) to four prominent musical figures, one of whom was Bach. After that he left Leipzig, and his departure might have provided the impulse for the cantata. Many details of the text and also the prominent role played by the transverse flute in the cantata would be suitable for Mizler, who was himself an enthusiastic flautist. And who could have written the cantata’s text? Several linguistic details reveal that the author was not Italian but German, and that writing the text caused him some problems. For assistance he helped himself liberally to Italian literature: he turned in the introductory verses to the classical poet Giovanni Battista Guarini (1538–1612) and in the rest of the work to the opera librettist Pietro Metastasio (1698–1782). He evidently had a thorough literary education. Here, too, the evidence seems to point in one direction: to Johann Matthias Gesner (1691–1761), then headmaster of the Thomasschule in Leipzig who, when he had been headmaster of the grammar school in Ansbach in 1729–30, had already become aware of Mizler, and had become his mentor and patron. Admittedly, all of these are no more than hypotheses, speculative attempts to assign the cantata a place in Bach’s life and personal environment, on the basis of its text. But the music, too, is difficult to categorize. In terms of format, a solo soprano cantata with an opening concertante movement for flute and two da capo arias introduced by recitatives is by no means unusual. It is also unproblematic to believe that Bach was the composer of the sinfonia and recitatives. What is surprising, however, is the relative modernity of the arias, which prove to be strongly influences by the stylistic world of Italian opera and can tata writing. But perhaps the music’s Italianità can be understood as a wholly inten tional correlation with the Italian text. Despite all the efforts of Bach scholars, Non sa che sia dolore has remained an enigma. Perhaps one day a fortunate source discovery will shed further light on the matter. Until then, however, the music can captivate its audiences and, with its beauty tinged with mys tery, lead them into the world of fantasies. Amore traditore (Treacherous love), BWV 203 This short solo cantata for bass and harpsichord, comprising just three movements, has survived in a composite manuscript from the eighteenth century, which was still available when the Bach-Gesellschaft’s complete edition was prepared in 1862 but has subsequently disappeared. In that manuscript the cantata was definitively labelled as a work ‘di Giov. Seb. Bach’. Nonetheless, doubts as to its authenticity are legitimate. These have nothing to do with the quality of the music. It is a very typical Italian chamber cantata, and its text is equally typical: the monologue of a disappointed lover, who takes Amor, the god of love, to task, accuses him of betrayal and deception, and defiantly refuses to be a suffering slave to unrequited love. The form of the cantata follows an established pattern: two da capo arias are linked by a recitative. The first aria has as its basis a basso continuo ritornello, which frames and subdivides the movement. Above its ostinato motifs the vocal line roams freely, sometimes alluding to them by means of imitation. A special feature of the second aria is that the harpsichord is used not as a continuo instrument with a chordal accompaniment (as it had been previously) but in a virtuoso, concertante role. Here the musical activity takes place on two almost totally separate levels. The singer presents something akin to a vocal minuet, at a moderate tempo and with a relatively simple metrical scheme, without extended coloraturas, progressing to a large extent in two- and four-bar groups typical of dance music. In sharp contrast, however, the harpsichord plays an extremely lively part with toccata-like figurations and, at times, full chords. This is the work of a very idiosyncratic composer. If the cantata had not already been linked to the name of Bach, nobody would have thought of ascribing it to him. Stylistically it does not really fit anywhere in his output. One might at best imagine that his link to the piece was as an arranger rather than a com poser. Perhaps the cantata was originally for another, higher vocal range, and was arranged for bass voice at a later stage, possibly by Bach. Or perhaps the concertante harpsichord part was added by an arranger in place of a normal, chordal continuo part – again Bach might have done so. This cantata, too, presents us with many riddles. © Klaus Hofmann 2016