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First Metropolitan United Church
March 10, 2018
"We know of no occasion for which Bach could have written the B-minor Mass, nor any patron who might have commissioned it, nor any performance of the complete work before 1750...Like no other work of Bach's, the B-minor Mass represents a summary of his writing for the voice".
Thus wrote one of the most recent of Bach's biographers, Christoph Wolff.
If we accept his notion — and no more convincing explanation has been offered — that Bach intended the B-minor Mass as a vocal testament, that makes it even more remarkable, given that almost none of its music was freshly composed, but rather assembled and reworked from earlier pieces, the earliest of which to be identified dates from 1714 (the "Crucifixus" based on the chorus "Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen" from the cantata BWV12) some three-and-a-half decades before the setting of "Et incarnatus est" which immediately precedes it, and which was seemingly Bach's last choral composition. Moreover, although the chorus itself is mostly in five parts (two sopranos, alto, tenor and bass) it is sometimes reduced to four, or expanded to six (for the "Sanctus") and eight (strictly speaking, two four-part choirs) for the "Osanna".
To concoct a work of two hours' duration from music composed over such a span (the "Sanctus" dates from 1724, the "Kyrie" and "Gloria" constitute the Missa Brevis of 1733) and have it not only cohere stylistically and emotionally, but also regularly declared as one of Western Culture's high points, is indeed a testament: to Bach's genius.
Perhaps if Bach had not existed it would have been necessary to invent him.
It might be argued that were the Mass more frequently performed — as often, say, as is Handel's Messiah — increased familiarity might breed, if not contempt, then at least a diminished regard for the music.
I beg to differ. Certainly, for most people, the over-exposure of Messiah has not had this effect and, in my opinion, the Bach is by far the greater work.
And, of course, from a choral singer's point of view, it offers much more, with the soloists having concomitantly less: only nine of the twenty-eight movements are not for the chorus.
Given this relative infrequency, any performance, especially as fine a performance as was on offer from the Victoria Philharmonic Choir and Music Director Peter Butterfield, is all the more welcome.
Not that the performance itself was perfect, if there can be any such thing, but it was more than good, from the big, dramatic opening chords of the first "Kyrie" to the glorious, frisson-inducing final pages of the "Dona Nobis Pacem".
Firstly the choir itself (it was, after all, their event): aside from one or two slightly ragged spots, they were very good indeed: intonation, diction and ensemble (the chorister's Holy Trinity) were for the most part excellent and they did, indeed, convey the fact that this was extraordinary music they were singing.
The soloists, with tenor Isaiah Bell standing in at the last minute, were also excellent, although I did wonder once or twice whether soprano Anne Grimm was affected by the "something that's going round", as there seemed to be a slight huskiness to her voice that I had not noticed previously; I would not make too much of this though and her "Laudamus te" was certainly enticing. And baritone Nathaniel Watson was certainly more than impressive in "Quoniam".
The two most profound arias are, of course, the tenor's "Benedictus" and the mezzo's "Agnus Dei"; Bell was excellent in the former, while Sarah Fryer was mesmerising in the latter.
The twenty-three piece pickup orchestra, which included representatives of Victoria Baroque, the Civic and Sooke Philharmonic Orchestras, (no current members of the Victoria Symphony, as far as I could tell, but one or two past members), the University of Victoria and the Victoria Conservatory, was uniformly excellent (which is why I have listed their names below).
And while, as ever, it is invidious to single out any players in particular, I simply cannot fail to mention Elyssa Lefurgey-Smith's violin obbligato in "Laudamus te", Richard Curry's splendid horn in "Quoniam", Soile Stratkauskas' delectable flute in "Domine Deus" or the trumpets (oh, the trumpets!) of Merrie Klazek, Marianne Ing and Dave Flello in the big choruses: I can think of few more uplifting moments in all of music than the opening of the "Gloria".
As to Peter Butterfield's direction, while there were a few points on which I would demur (don't worry, I shall get to them) on the whole I was simply transported, whether on the vast choral waves of sound (as in the "Kyrie", the "Sanctus" and the final "Dona nobis pacem") or the subtle detail of the more intimate movements, both choral and solo. Clearly Butterfield has a firm grasp on the music and, one suspects, a deep and abiding love for it.
As to those demurrals: I realise that wallowing in the sheer beauty of sound can be self-indulgent, but to take the chorus "Et in terra pax" as quickly as he did is, in my view, to lessen the effect of some of Bach's most gorgeous choral writing. The climax of the movement, however, was most impressive.
Similarly, the fugal "Cum sancto spirito" seemed rather too quick for clarity, while the opening of "Et incarnatus est" was surely too loud.
But what puzzled me most of all, was the fact that in the chorus "Et resurrexit", the passage beginning "Et iterum venturus" was sung not by the basses of the choir but by the baritone soloist.
Admittedly, it is a tricky part for the basses and I remember clearly that when I first sang the work, which would have been in 1966 or perhaps 1967, our conductor spent a considerable amount of time with us getting it right. But I suspect that we basses would have been somewhat miffed (to put it mildly) had he suggested that we were not up to the task and that he was handing that part of the chorus to the soloist.
Moreover, a random sampling from recordings in my collection, ranging from 1953 to 2007, failed to reveal any precedent for it.
Could it perhaps have been the abomination which is one-voice-to-a-part raising its ugly head? I do hope not.
But these fairly minor complaints should be judged in the context of a fine and often deeply moving performance of a supreme masterpiece.
Despite the fact that I got home late and then lost an hour's sleep because of the clocks going forward, I would not have missed this for the world.
The orchestra:
Elyssa Lefurgey-Smith, Barb Gilroy, Simon
MacDonald: violin I
Heilwig von Keonigsloew, Eva Swensson, Heather Boulding: violin
II
Guyonne Le Louarn, Jessica Pickersgill: viola
Rosanna Butterfield, Nathan Jacklin: cello
Brucke Meikle: bass
David Stratkauskas: organ
Kristen Cooke, Colin Mailer: oboe
Soile Stratkauskas, Lana Betts: flute
Katrina Russell, Heather Fisher: bassoon
Merrie Klazek, Marianne Ing, Dave Flello: trumpet
Richard Curry: horn
Aaron Mattack, timpani
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