St Thomas’s Church, Leipzig
Ute Selbig (soprano, Weib des
Pilatus)
Damien Guillon
(counter-tenor)
Martin Petzold (Evangelist)
Martin Lattke (tenor)
Panajotis Iconomou (Christus)
Thomas Laske (bass, Pilatus)
Max Gläser (Ancilla I)
Johannes Hildebrnadt (Ancilla
II)
Ansgar Führer (Testis I)
Paul Stammkötter (Testis II)
Julius Sattler (Pontifex I)
Friedrich Hammel (Pontifex
II)
Kien Dô Trung (Judas)
Georg Schütze (Petrus)
Thomanerchor Leipzig
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra
Michael Gläser (conductor)
To hear the St Matthew Passion in the Thomaskirche
on Maundy Thursday – Good Friday will be Parsifal
day – could hardly fail to be a moving experience. Though a concert rather than
a liturgical performance, there is enough of the Church, past and present, Body
of Christ and bricks and mortar, to ensure that it is not merely a concert as
generally understood. And St Thomas’s Church itself ensures that no
performance, however astringent its intention, can fail to exude a degree of
warmth. (Those seeking alleged ‘authenticity’ would do well to ponder the
entirely ‘inauthentic’ sound, let alone experience, offered by the concert hall,
let alone the clinical quality and distortions of a recording.)
Michael Gläser’s tempi were
often very fast, sometimes absurdly so, but equally capable of convincing and
surprising. (Wherever does this bizarre obsession with despatching the supreme masterpiece
of Western art as quickly as possible come from?) Although the great opening
chorus was in principle too fast, the security of the bass continuo line
ensured that it maintained coherence. Just as importantly, the outstanding
choral singing, here and elsewhere, ensured that all was not lost. The cries of
‘Wohin?’ were properly questioning, drawing us into the drama that was to
unfold. Even in the case of the extremely fast tempo adopted for ‘Ja nicht auf
das Fest,’ orchestral depth and power maintained more than a degree of the
necessary gravity. Moreover, such tempi were not entirely predictable: that for
‘Wo willst du, dass wir dir bereiten’ was far more relaxed, indeed in context
surprisingly slow. The hissing sibilants of ‘Herr, bin ichs?’ a little later
told their own story. And, though again in reality simply too fast, ‘O Mensch,
bewein dein Sünde groß, the great chorale prelude with which the first part
closes, still made its expressive point. Gläser really ought, though, to listen
to and to consider the great performances of the past, both in Leipzig and
elsewhere; so much is lost here when ploughing through it as quickly as
possible, however excellent the choir and orchestra. Likewise, if the vicious,
spiteful crowd truly made its presence felt in ‘Der du den Tempel Gottes
zerbirchst’, ‘Wahrlich, dieser ist Gottes Sohn gewesen’ sounded oddly
inconsequential. In so consciously deflated a delivery, there was no sense whatsoever
of what should be a world-shattering recognition. Furtwängler here remains
supreme – and if we cannot expect his like today, we ought to be able to expect
more than that. The final chorus, however, even if it did not move as it does
with, say Klemperer or Richter, concluded in a fashion that was more than
merely matter-of-fact, leaving one wishing only for silence.
The vocal soloists were not
the most impressive bunch, though they had their moments. Ute Selibig sang with
sincerity and quasi-instrumental agility, although in, for instance, ‘Ich will
dir meine Herze schenken’, the wonderful Gewandhaus woodwind shone more brightly
still in that respect. Selbig’s subtle ornamentation convinced too. And when she
was permitted a more sensible tempo, as in ‘Er hat uns allen wohlgetan … Aus
Liebe will mein Heiland sterben,’ there were signs of something more profound
than we generally heard. Bar a few moments of harshness, Damien Guillon’s
counter-tenor impressed on its own terms, but it is difficult to understand a
preference for a counter-tenor here over a female voice. Christa Ludwig, Janet
Baker, et al., not only sound ‘right’,
but have the consoling warmth that words and
music demand. ‘Erbarme dich’, however, benefited from a perfectly-judged violin
solo (Christian Funke). It was, moreover, permitted to unfold at a reasonable
tempo. Martin Lattke’s tenor solos did not make a huge impression; Martin
Petzold’s Evangelist sometimes veered towards caricature – spitting ‘spieten’
once is fine, but twice... – but at least he offered detailed attention to the
text. Panajotis Iconomou’s Christus was disturbingly woolly and unfocused in the
first part, intonation sometimes drifting, but he recovered strongly in the
second. His first appearance therein, ‘Du sagest. Doch sage ich euch…’ was
resonant and focused. Thomas Laske’s
performance arguably headed in the opposite direction, though he was
indubitably hampered by absurdly fast tempi for both of his arias in the second
part, a sense of struggle in ‘Mache dich’ entirely absent. His interjections as
Pilate, however, were uniformly excellent.
