Bach’s music is often described as “cerebral” – and it is indeed. In terms of harmony, counterpoint and structure, each piece is a microcosm with new richness in complexity found at every level of analysis. At the same time, 75% of what Bach wrote is based in dance rhythm. Almost all numbers in Bach sacred pieces are guided by dance rhythms. This means that this cerebral music is also a “corporal” music, if you come to think that its rhythm was based on movements of the human body. We tend to see everything filtered by Romanticism – it is everybody’s “default” aesthetic approach – and many subtleties of baroque music are lost when we see it through Romantic lenses. For instance, 19th centuries audiences tended to find Bach’s dance-like sacred music improper to the seriousness of religious matters and until recently conductors tended to efface this seemingly “disrespectful” cadence and increase the weight of sound to suggest the gravitas a liturgical text had to exude.
I often like what composers do with the credo – it is a very wordy part of the mass and if you don’t keep things moving forward, it could take forever. And my favorite version is the one in Bach’s Mass in B minor, especially the duet between soprano I and alto. It has a contagious rhythm; it is difficult not to move to this rhythm. And that is exactly what Bach wanted you to feel – an impulse stronger than yourself that draws you to what is being “said”, in other words, the joys of Christian faith. The whole structure of Et in unum is about “becoming one with”, with both voices intertwining as if they were whirling in mystical dance steps around you, crossing their melisme and their consonants in fantastic long words such as unigenitum and consubstantialem.
That is why I have always enjoyed this number in Andrew Parrot’s recording with the Taverner Players. Parrot just does not buy the idea that the Mass in B minor is supposed to be imposed on the audience with the weight of religion. He approaches it from the “Bach cantata” point of view, i.e., as some kind of musical advertisement of the advantages of believing. Members of the congregation in 18th century led difficult and boring lives (even when they were rich) and you wouldn’t engage them by showing that spiritual life was a duller version of what they already had – Bach was showing them how happier and brighter is life for someone who believes. Andrew Parrot shows the duet in its brighter colors in the pointed playing of his instrumental group, balanced in equal standing with his two ideal soloists. Emma Kirkby is of course an acknowledged Bach singer with her boy-like soprano whose high register shows instrumental poise and purity. Here, however, pride of place goes to the extraordinary singing of the boy alto Christian Immler* (who has now a career as a bass). As Bach was used to write to boys’ voices, which descend into their low notes without any break (unlike countertenors and female altos), the tessitura is rather uncomfortable for adult singers. Immler handles it famously – the treacherous “passaggio” (inexistent for him) delivered with unusual clarity. His freshness of tone blends beautifully with Kirkby’s soprano – and his purity of intonation is remarkable. Once you listen to these two outstanding soloists, it is difficult to hear this duo with anyone else!
* There are two boy altos in Parrot’s recording: Immler and Panito Iconomou (who also sings today as a bass with the first name Panajotis). The singing in the duet is sometimes credited to Iconomou. Judging from Harnoncourt’s video of Bach’s Johannis-Passion, in which both Immler and Panito can be seen, Immler’s voice sounds a bit smokier than the alto in the duet with Kirkby. Boys’ voices are variable and, even if I first tended to believe that it was Iconomou there, the latter said in an interview on the Bach Cantata Website: “The only things I noticed was that I was being put much further away from the microphones than anybody else whilst recording with Harnoncourt or Parrott and that I wasn’t allowed to sing the duet in Bach’s B-Minor (BWV 232) with Emma Kirkby after our first microphone check.”