The good news for Mengelbergians
is that, unlike Philips’ 2 CD release
of some years ago, this Naxos St Matthew
Passion is complete as recorded and
originally issued. For the Psalm Sunday
performance in the Concertgebouw given
in April 1939 the conductor made some
habitual cuts and for the record these
were nos. 23, 29, 38, 41, 48, 50-3,
55, 61, 65-66, 70 and 75; he abridged
a further number of the recitatives
and arias, even the Chorale O Haupt
voll Blut und Wunden (No.63) but the
performance here is intact as it was
when issued after the War. The copies
were transferred from LPs because the
recording was preserved on celluloid
film, which has ensured a creditable
fidelity and in particular captures
the Concertgebouw acoustic in all its
glory.
The idiosyncrasies,
outsize romanticised gestures, huge
rallentandi and other Mengelbergian
aesthetic traits apply to Bach as much
as to anyone he conducted. The cantilevered
string choirs, emphatic choral entry
points, the pronounced and slow tempi
and shuddering caesurae are part of
his expressive armoury and they remain
problematically nourishing. We can also
hear from the start the very distinctive
contribution of the well-drilled "Zanglust"
Boys’ Choir – their entries marked by
a sudden onrush of boyish animation.
Of the soloists Karl Erb was then 62,
an Evangelist of great experience and
authority, whose presence adds dignity
and drama to the performance though
his voice is inclined to be monochromatic
and lacking in the full range of colours.
Some strain at the top of his tessitura
is unavoidable I suppose but otherwise
his is a noble assumption, one that
often reaches profound heights. Alto
Ilona Durigo was slightly younger than
Erb – about 57 – and a Hungarian notable
for her Mahler and Schoeck but not for
any operatic career (just one performance
in point of fact). She sounds rather
matronly here with an occasionally obtrusive
vibrato, but she’s stylistically apt
in the context of Mengelberg’s vision
of things. As Jesus the Dutch bass Willem
Ravelli can be a mite gruff but he’s
also a spiritually intense presence
and right inside the role, one incidentally
he performed over four hundred times.
Jo Vincent is the youngest of the soloists
but even so she was then already forty-one;
her aria with the orchestral flautist
in Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben
is radiant and she sings throughout
with great purity and control. Tulder
and Schey acquit themselves well. There
is a full range of obbligato instrumentalists;
agile flautist Hubert Barwahser and
the feminine-sounding fiddle of orchestral
leader Louis Zimmermann, the rather
harp-sounding harpsichord in No.62 (most
idiosyncratic) and the dramatic organ
flourishes in No.33. And then there
are the chorales, whether dramatic or
intensely withdrawn, no matter that
a couple may have been slightly cut
and you have a performance of massive
spiritual identification in the romantic
tradition.
Coupled with it is
the rest of Mengelberg’s commercial
Bach legacy. The Suite No.2 is well
known; Archipel’s transfer is booming
and poor but Michael G Thomas’s is much
better and this is on a par with that
one (now unavailable in any case). The
two Airs make entertaining discmates
in the two arrangements, one by Mahler,
the other by Telico, which is harp-laden
and slower than the New York-Mahler
version of nine years previously. The
Double Concerto is getting increasing
release these days; this one has been
transferred from a tape copy and is
therefore not ideal though it’s quite
acceptable. It’s rather better than
Pearl’s disappointing one. Zimmermann
and Helman were two of the orchestra’s
concertmasters and make a glamorously
romanticised pairing, even if the more
elfin Zimmermann is not over-assertive.
The three CD set comes
with cogent notes - no texts of course,
but plenty of vitally imaginative music-making
of the old school.
Jonathan Woolf
Amsterdam Toonkunst Choir 