| Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) - Messe in h-moll, BWV 232 (1987) |
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| Track List | |||||
| 61:15 | |||||
| 01 | Kyrie - Choir - Krie Eleison | 11:45 | |||
| 02 | Duet: Christe Eleison (sop/alto) | 06:14 | |||
| 03 | Choir: Kyrie Eleison | 03:20 | |||
| 04 | Gloria - Choir: Gloria in excelsis Deo | 01:54 | |||
| 05 | Choir: Et in terra pax | 04:02 | |||
| 06 | Aria: Laudamus te (alto) | 05:25 | |||
| 07 | Choir: Gratias agimus tibi | 03:46 | |||
| 08 | Duet: Domine Deus (sop/tenor) | 06:09 | |||
| 09 | Choir: Qui tollis paccata mundi | 03:49 | |||
| 10 | Aria: Qui sedes ad dextram Patris (alto) | 05:46 | |||
| 11 | Aria: Quonium tu solus sanctus (bass) | 04:55 | |||
| 12 | Choir: Cum Sancto Spiritu | 04:10 | |||
| 64:38 | |||||
| 01 | Credo - Choir: Credo in unum Deum | 02:47 | |||
| 02 | Choir: Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem | 02:14 | |||
| 03 | Duet: Et in unum Dominum (sop/alto) | 05:35 | |||
| 04 | Choir: Et incarnatus est | 04:02 | |||
| 05 | Choir: Crucifixus | 02:41 | |||
| 06 | Choir: Et resurrexit | 04:20 | |||
| 07 | Aria: Et in Spiritum Sanctum (bass) | 06:28 | |||
| 08 | Choir: Confiteor unum baptisma | 03:39 | |||
| 09 | Choir: Et exspecto resurrectionem | 04:09 | |||
| 10 | Sanctus - Choir: Sanctus | 06:13 | |||
| 11 | Choir: Osanna in excelsis | 02:43 | |||
| 12 | Aria: Benedictus, qui venit (tenor) | 05:30 | |||
| 13 | Choir: Osanna in excelsis (da capo) | 02:45 | |||
| 14 | Agnus Dei - Aria: Agnus Dei (alto) | 07:33 | |||
| 15 | Choir: Dona nobis pacem | 03:59 | |||
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| Notes |
| Gundula Janowitz: Soprano
Christa Ludwig: Contralto Peter Schreier: Tenor Robert Kerns: Baritone Karl Ridderbusch: Bass) Thomas Brandis: Violin) Gerd Seifert: Horn) James Galway: Flute Günter Prill: Flute) Robert Eliscu: Oboe d'amore Heinrich Kärcher: Oboe d'amore Günter Piesk: Bassoon Henning Trog: Bassoon Eberhard Finke: 'Cello Rainer Zepperitz: Double Bass Rudolf Scholz: Organ Notes, text and translation Essay: Hans-Elmar Bach Gramophone review: There is still a following for mainstream 'symphonic' accounts of Bach's great Mass as witnessed by recordings in the last four years from Robert Shaw, Sir Georg Solti and Peter Schreier. Giulini is the latest to join the fray in a work which he has openly revered since his Philharmonia days and which he evidently held in special awe: the story went that he felt too young at that stage to tackle such a monument of the canon. Admirable restraint, maybe, but in retrospect one cannot help but wonder what exceptional energy and intensity he would have brought to this piece in that heady era. None of us needs reminding that in the intervening years that sort of reverence has become unfashionable to say the least and no work's performances have so passionately divided the Bach-loving public. Unlike the dogged and defensive Solti, Giulini pays some lip-service to the revelations of 'period' performance practice and there are gestures, particularly in the arias, which he has, unconsciously or not, drawn from historically aware sources. I am not advocating necessarily whether this is a good thing or not, and in the eternal scheme it matters very little since Giulini - even if his choir sound smaller than Solti's - is coming from a tradition of large choral weightiness and an epic vision matured through conventional means. Taken on his own terms, Giulini unquestionably has something he wants to say here, even if a large proportion of Bachians no longer relish the comparatively cloying textures of modern forces and the danger of prevailing sentimentality with incessantly slow tempos. The opening Kyrie is supplicatory and lightly articulated, legato, unself-regarding, yet also hazy and without the necessary rhythmic definition. The problem is less apparent in the large D major movements with trumpets and drums, such as the Hosanna, where the triple-time metre propels the music forward despite Giulini's view that grandeur in baroque music means a broad sweep at all costs. My ultimate misgivings about this recording are not concerned with perceived positions on Bach performance practices; if the music-making is convincing, I really could not care less whether six or 60 singers are employed. What worries me here is that Giulini treats everything as if it has to be coated with ermine: smooth, unfettered, a sort of unquestioning (and ultimately unquesting) religiosity which attempts to elevate the work into heavenly realms, unsoiled. The choir are remarkably placid in the great 'concerto' movements, and even the soloists seem to be under the spell of Giulini's aura of seamless and respectful distance. Roberta Alexander sounds as if she has seen a ghost in Laudamus te and Gratias agimus has Hollywood and a dumbstruck Victor Mature in close attendance. There is much to be said for raising the profile of great masterpieces above the ordinary but Giulini appears to have ruled out the raw fervour which lies at the heart of Bach's humanity - and raises it far higher. Expressions of plain joy are deliberately set to traditional dance forms (this work is riddled with dances) yet it is hard to detect one sprung step. Herbert von Karajan's 21-year-old account reappears regularly, this time in a super-compact format where some ingenuity is required to discover the second disc. As with Giulini, the best moments are those which highlight the quality of the solo singers and draw attention away from the choral singing, which by today's standards lacks consistency, variety and quality of sound. While both versions offer distinguished soloists, Karajan has the pick of them with Gundula Janowitz, a Bach singer of some pedigree - if only Richter had used her more than in just a Christmas Oratorio (Archiv, 3/89) and Messiah (DG) - whose duet, Et in unum Dominum, with Christa Ludwig is beautifully executed. Again, similar to Giulini, Karajan takes a luxuriant view of proceedings, plushly stroking phrases and building large blocks of sound, though he is more rhythmically robust in the choral movements; the final Kyrie is not without integrity and the opening movement of the Gloria has an immediacy and sense of direction which eludes Giulini. With hindsight, it is easy to see where period performance has changed - beyond all recognition and mostly for the better - expectations in articulation, colour, texture and rhythm. So much here simply lacks interest, maybe also because Karajan never establishes an unwavering continuo and a rock-like pulse to convey an inscrutable conviction (Cum sanctu spiritu is one of many extraordinary unsteady movements) and act as a point of departure for creative interpretation. If not enough options presented themselves in 1974, then Karajan had only himself to blame. A good number of challenging modern-instruments accounts had already made their mark by then: Richter, Munchinger and Marriner exhibit a range of insights, each of which leaves Karajan and Giulini looking distinctly out of place and out of sorts. |