Another look: Matthäus-Passion BWV 244 (version c. 1742) by JS Bach

At the risk of provoking a “Well, derr Chris” chorus, I just have to state for the record that J.S. Bach was a revolutionary. (Even if Wikipedia would have you believe otherwise.) He did for music what Giotto did for art.

Talk about a proto postmodernist... Here’s a dude who spelled out his name in notes (good thing there’s an H on the German stave); who threw out the keyboard tuning of the day cos he wanted to compose in every key; whose music, in its way, makes physical gestures, like the sign of the cross; and who, with the skill of a dramatist, drew us -- and still draws us -- into the action... even when that action is as remote as the passion of Jesus.

But a quarter of a millennium (give or take) before Andrew Lloyd Webber -- the St Matthew Passion was first performed on Good Friday 1727 -- there was no way this Lutheran Cantor could turn Jesus into a ‘Superstar’. Indeed, never has the son of god been so in need of a make-over as the one in Bach’s St Matthew Passion...

JC could do with a speech writer -- though we can blame St Matthew’s gospel for his passive aggression -- and Bach’s scoring is, at best, rather cautious. (JS’s saviour is a stately -- if bland -- bass.)

So what does the composer do to compensate? First, he gives Jesus an orchestral ‘halo’. (It’s only relinquished in the moment when he believes he has been forsaken.) But, more importantly, Bach also gives him an evangelist: a PR man.

At the pre-Easter performance at the Recital Centre, Robert Macfarlane did the honours as the evangelist. His brilliantly agile and youthful singing reminded me of a young Eberhard Büchner. He has to do waaaay too much of the “he saids” and “she saids”, but that material has rarely been so easy to tolerate.

The casting of the Palm Sunday performance was really shrewd. Illuminating even. Emo alto Lynette Alcántara was a brilliant choice. So too was Siobhán Stagg in the soprano solo role. Stagg began with a treble-like opacity of timbre, then opened up her voice to bring a more womanly presence as required. (Her vestment purple dress was a nice touch too... wrong for Good Friday, when the Passion should be performed, but spot on for Palm Sunday in a Lutheran church!)

But the directors finally baulked at bringing the piece to life as a piece of religious theatre. It takes so little to differentiate between the New Testament protagonists, the actual character roles, and the other soloists... who are our proxies. But something this simple can transform the piece from an abstract musical experience into something unforgettable.

As the Rev Dr Andreas Loewe pointed out before the concert, Bach turns listeners into witnesses. He requires that we be intent. And, finally, to participate. (Not literally as singers, but spiritually.) Not only are we implicated, we take our place among the protagonists. And we might have if the invitation had been made a bit more clearly.

Judas, for example, popped up from the chorus for his occasional line, then quickly disappeared back into obscurity. (In a nice bit of doubling, Nicholas Dinopoulos also bobbed up as Pilate.)

Though this one-off performance had a couple of road accident moments, mostly in the untemperable woodwinds, it provided an opportunity for old fans of the work to look for additional riches in the writing. (This was a performance of the 1742 rewrite.)

This time, I noticed the “Buß und Reu” in the alto solo. As Alcántara sang about penance and remorse, the double bass was the instrument showing real penance while the flute showed only remorse. Bach, that shrewd old Christian, makes clear that ‘penance’ is the worthier of the two occupations. The bass is authoritative while the flute is indulgent, almost despairing... and therefore contemptible.

I liked Alcántara’s downward attach on the word Knirscht too.

Later, repetitions of “süßes krequz” [sweet cross] were made to sound like “Jesus Christ”, and ‘armen’ [arms] like ‘Amen’. No accident, I’m sure.

Yet again I was fascinated by the (surely undeserved) respect Bach shows to the chief priests and elders who betray Jesus. Their music is too damn likable! Like Milton in Paradise Lost, Bach seems to be on the devil’s side with or without knowing it.

And, finally, it’s a shining achievement on Bach’s part that a passion -- which, by definition, ends in the dark limbo between death and resurrection -- should make ‘rest’ seem so attractive. The best he can offer us, or Jesus, is a cessation from suffering.

Matthäus-Passion by J.S. Bach. Version c 1742. Presented by Melbourne Recital Centre. Elizabeth Murdoch Hall, Sunday April 17.

Performed by Ironwood Chamber Orchestra, the choir of Trinity College, the Consort of Melbourne, Ensemble Gombert and trebles from the Melbourne Grammar School Chapel Choir. Conducted by Jeremy Summerly. With Robert Macfarlane (Evangelist), Michael Leighton Jones (Jesus), Siobhán Stagg (solo soprano), Lynette Alcántara (solo alto), Paul Bentley (solo tenor) and Paul Tregear (solo bass).

My official (and officious!) review for The Australian is on-line, here.