Gott, man lobet dich in der Stille

BWV 120

 

Probably based on pre-Leipzig material (including the Sonata for Violin and Harpsichord in G Major, BWV 1019a, which might have appeared as late as 1725), the parodic performance history of  Gott, man lobet dich in der Stille (BWV 120) is convoluted and confusing.  Sources are contradictory.  A definitive chronology, if one exists, would be most appreciated.  Unfortunately, I believe, too many unresolved questions prevent that from happening.


Three distinct and separate uses of three of the movements (1, 2, and 4) have resulted in separate designations of BWV 120a, BWV 120b, and BWV 120, with probable first performances in that order.  BWV 120a was a wedding cantata probably first performed in 1729; BWV 120b was performed in celebration of the 200th anniversary of the Augsberg Confession on June 26th 1730; BWV 120 followed a few months later, probably on the Monday following St. Bartholomew’s Day (August 24) as part of the annual installation ceremonies of the Leipzig municipal administration.  (Would that we lived in a world where governments merited, let alone understood or appreciated, such tributes!) 















                                                         Alte Rathaus, Leipzig



1742 is also cited in connection with BWV 120, but in all likelihood this was a repeat performance: a limited number of Ratswahl cantatas were used and recycled during Bach’s 28 years in Leipzig. (I suggest this despite a definitive statement in the Bach volume of the Oxford Composer Companions which states that this cantata was “performed no earlier than 27 August 1742.”  Of course, the same entry points out: “The complex parody relationships of this work remain incompletely understood.”  Dürr, too, points to the 1742 date: “The autograph score, however, dates from around 1742, and more recently this date has been considered an accurate reflection of the cantata’s status as the latest in this series of parody-related works.”)  A fourth significant appearance of the brilliant chorus occurs in variation as the “Et expecto” of the Mass in B Minor.  More extensive analysis of BWV 120’s parody development and performance history from Round One discussions can be found at http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV120-D.htm .  A clear and concise description of the organization of the Leipzig city government and the procedures surrounding its annual installation can be found in the liner notes to the Herreweghe recording, which were reproduced and supplied to the BCW by Johan van Veen at http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Performers/Herreweghe-C13.htm .  Relevant samples from the scores of BWV 120 and its kin can be accessed at http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Scores/BWV120-Sco.htm .  I would particularly like to thank Francis Browne, whose interlinear translations prove to be of such inestimable utility in following the texts of the cantatas.  It would appear that, from the June 2008 entry dates listed on the translations for BWV 120 and BWV 120a, he has provided them expressly for these Round Two discussions.  (See http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Texts/BWV120-Eng3.htm and http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Texts/BWV120a-Eng3.htm .)

 

 

Setting aside the labyrinthine chaos of the compositional chronology, the music itself is absolutely wonderful.  This, to me, is one of Bach’s most enchanting creations.

 

The quietude of the opening alto aria — “Gott, man lobet dich in der Stille” — is unusual for such a celebratory piece. Rhythmic patterns, mostly in the continuo and pulsating along beneath the melisma,  provide a gentle, but secure foundation to a melodic line varying in intensity between the magical hush of the phrase “in der Stille” and the florid melisma of the remainder of the alto line.  The “in der Stille” phrases provide oases amidst the turmoil of the churning melisma, and the contrast between those sections is amplified by the contrast between this movement and the following chorus, “Jauchzet, ihr erfreuten Stimmen”, a contrast heightened by the absence of an intervening recitative.


In that chorus, moreover, with the brilliance of its brass and its full-throated choral climaxes, we experience joy personified. The interweaving of two primary figures — arpeggios of the rejoice (jauchzet) motif and spiraling sixteenths climbing (steiget) to heaven — create a sense of excitement and exhilaration. In this da capo chorus, polyphonic outer sections framing a homophonic center treat those two primary figures to fugal development that screws up the excitement one notch at a time and results in thrilling and inspiring climaxes.  That Bach himself loved this movement can be seen in the simple fact that he incorporated it in at least four works — here in BWV 120, in BWV 120a, in BWV 120b, and in the Mass in B Minor.


The next three movements focus on the advantages to Leipzig, the “city of lindens”, of securing the blessings of both the Father and the Son.  The first is a bass recitative, “Auf! du geliebte Lindenstadt”, an exhortation to the citizens of Leipzig to open themselves through homage and prayer to the blessings of God’s fatherly love.  The third is a tenor recitative, “Nun, Herr, so weihe selbst”, petitioning for the Son’s protection.  Between those two recitatives lies a soprano aria, “Heil und Segen”, which Dürr describes as “an exceptionally lovely jewel among Bach’s arias.” That aria, based on the third movement of the Sonata for Violin and Harpsichord, BWV 1019a, exhibits a florid violin accompaniment that beautifully recalls and complements the singing of the alto in the cantata’s opening aria.


Bringing the cantata to a contemplative close is the chorale “Nun hilf uns, Herr, den Diernern dein”, the fourth stanza of Martin Luther’s 1529 Te Deum, yet another request for Christ’s assistance.  Bach had used this same stanza to close BWV 119, but, whereas in BWV 119 he utilized only four of the eight verses, here he cites it in its entirety.)

 

In reading through the discussions in Round One, I was struck by the amount of space devoted to comparisons of the available recordings of BWV 120. This cantata being one of my personal favorites, I would love to hear what people think today, seven years later.  In particular I would be VERY curious to know whether people retain their preferences.  I know mine change as I learn more about the music and become better acquainted with the performance styles of different Bach interpreters.  Karl Richter was my introduction, and for several years my benchmark, for many of these cantatas.  Despite the profound impression he made on me, I only rarely play his performances today.  Strong opinions were expressed about BWV 120 during the first round.  I wonder how many of them hold up today.


Highlights


          

With respect to Herr Gott, Beherrscher aller Dinge, BWV120a, a BCML member wrote: “So, who might the wedding be for...? The list of 34 full-bridal Masses with cantatas during Bachs's Leipzig tenure, 1723-50, has one possible entry in early 1729: Monday, February 14; Catharina Regina, daughter of Dr. Christian Weiss Sr., St. Thomas Pastor; marries Johann Jacob Straube, businessman and banker; the preacher is deacon M. Justus Gotthard Rabener (NBA KB I/33, p.14).” 

Is there too much over-the-top schmaltz in the observation that this wedding took place on Valentine’s Day?


Another BCML member made the following observation: “This is the first time I've looked at the full score of the chorus and compared it to the ‘Et expecto’ of the B Minor Mass. Absolutely fascinating to see what Bach included and omitted. I was struck that the cantata chorus has a full orchestral coda whereas the Credo movement ends spectacularly abruptly (critics howled when Karl Richter performed it without a huge ritardando at the end).”

I responded:

“It is still possible to end the cantata movement quite abruptly.  As a result of Doug's comment, I  listened to several recorded versions of both the ‘Et expecto’ in the B Minor Mass and the second movement  of BWV 120. I was struck by the variability of the endings.  Koopman's was by far the most abrupt of the ones I sampled for BWV 120.  Did Richter's experience with the ‘Et expecto’ ending come into play when Koopman planned his recording?  

Did Koopman say to himself, ‘Hmmmm.  I like the abrupt ending, but I don't like the prominence of his brass, so I'll back off on that a little bit’?  

Especially when a piece has been recorded a number of times, how much of an impact does performance history have on aesthetic decisions in a new recording?  How many of the thousands of aesthetic choices that go into a recording can be made completely independently of the influence of the recorded history that precedes the new recording?  Are some recordings simply a pastiche of reactions to previous recordings?  Might a conductor reject a touch that he likes simply so he won't be identified with someone else?  Might he decide to do something else simply because no one has done it like that before?  Do some performers mine earlier performances for ideas while others avoid listening to anything that might interfere with their own immediate and personal reading of the printed score?  There's probably a wide continuum of answers to each of these questions, all of which I'm sure have been asked many times before.  What is clear is that putting together a new recording of an oft-recorded piece presents an imposing array of interpretative and aesthetic challenges.  These issues will certainly come into play with next week's BWV 51, 61 recordings of which are listed on the website.

I'm also sure that having heard a number of versions of a piece has an effect on our own reactions with respect to the listening experience.  I know Julian lamented a few months ago of the lost pleasure of hearing a Bach cantata for the first time.  As a relative newcomer to Bach, I try to keep that in mind when I hear something new, which is fairly frequently.  The experience of reacting to something for the first time is an experience one obviously can never have again, so I try to make the most of it that I can.”


Another BCML member pointed out that only one complete recording of a reconstruction of BWV 120a is available, that of Ton Koopman and the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra & Choir, to which I responded:


“William, thank you!  

Thank you for pointing out the felicities of BWV 120a.

Rilling has extracted several movements from 120a, but Koopman's is, in fact, the only complete reconstruction, and it is a joy.  I listened to it again tonight and was taken by its sheer exuberance.  Interestingly enough, the tempo of Koopman's opening chorus here, the same second chorus which I find a little too facile for BWV 120, I find totally appropriate for the more charivari-like atmosphere of a wedding ceremony.

I also found listening to the sole recorded version of a cantata quite instructive.  Once a second version becomes part of the experience, it is only natural to start comparing and making decisions with respect to preferences.  ‘I like that because...’  ‘I DON'T like that because...’  When there's only one recording, a listener is NOT making choices, but only appreciating what is given.  And when it's as good as this recording by Koopman, it's a gift.”


Just for the record, for the cantatas in question here, Herreweghe’s BWV 120 and Koopman’s BWV 120a top my list.


And Ed, thanks for being you, i.e., “I remain confident in the big picture.”



 

Sunday, July 13, 2008

 
 
Made on a Mac

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