Cantata BWV 201 - Discussions

Cantata BWV 201
Geschwinde, ihr wirbelnden Winde
Discussions - Part 2

Continue from Part 1

Discussions in the Week of June 29, 2008

Stephen Benson wrote (June 28, 2008):
Introduction to BWV 201 Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan

Poor Midas can't catch a break!

Lackey and witless toady to the teflon-coated Pan, who manages to slip off into the wings unscathed, Midas winds up the butt of everyone's joke in this comic masterpiece.

Twenty years separate two notable performances of BWV 201, Bach's musical indictment of musical ignorance. The first performance, as suggested by most authorities, came in 1729 during Bach's first appearance as leader of the Collegium Musicum at Zimmermann's coffeehouse. A specific target, if one existed, for this initial performance has not been identified. The second performance, 20 years later, came in 1749 in the form of a scathing response to those whom Bach considered at that moment to be particularly ignorant critics -- either Johann Gottlob Biedermann or the Saxon premiere Count Bruhl or both. Clearly, unenlightened criticism was an issue which plagued Bach throughout his career and to which he was particularly sensitive. Koopman [11], in the liner notes to his recorded performance, suggests that there may, in fact, have been several performances of this cantata. But whatever the immediate motivation, no more apt vehicle could have been chosen to explore musical aesthetics than the mythical confrontation between Phoebus Apollo and the clueless Pan.

I do find it curious that Pan gets off so lightly in Bach's reading while the scapegoat Midas, who appears to be nothing more than a dumb patsy, bears the brunt of the ridicule. Pan carries the onus of pride as well as of ignorance and therefore deserves a more humiliating fate. I can't help but see him chortling to himself about his good fortune as he sneaks out the back door: "Boy, I got away with one there, didn't I?" The visual image I associate with the Pan of BWV 201 is that of him returning to sylvan settings and frolicking with nubile nymphs as depicted in William Bougereau's "Nymphs and Satyr", a painting frequently cited as displaying the same kind of bad artistic taste being skewered here by Bach. (I have to confess that I enjoy the painting. No visit to the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, MA, would be complete without experiencing its lighthearted vulgarity.)

Despite the fact that the subject matter of this cantata was indeed of great moment to Bach, its secular format allowed him to indulge the whimsical, playful side of his musical personality. (The graphic recreation of the braying of an ass in Midas's aria was a crudeness we normally might not expect from Bach!) It also allowed him to narrate a story with a clearly identifiable plot line. Based on the account provided by Ovid, Bach and his "librettist" Picander adapted the tale to meet the exigencies of a sendup of their contemporary enforcers of musical conformity.

Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan ("The dispute between Phoebus and Pan") or Geschwinde, geschwinde, ihr wirbelneden Winde ("Haste, haste, you whirling winds"), as it is also known, is, at approximately 50 minutes, one of Bach's longest cantatas. Consisting of 15 movements bookended by two marvelous choruses, the six principal characters alternate arias with recitatives which define the plot line and keep the action moving orward. The text is by Picander (Christian Friedrich Henrici) after Ovid's Metamorphoses (Book 11). Among other alterations to Ovid's account, Picander adds two characters -- Mercurius (god of merchants, probably representing the merchants of Leipzig) and Momus (god of satire) -- and makes the contest vocal rather than instrumental. Tmolus's role changes from that of being sole judge to becoming Apollo's second, as does the role of Midas, who becomes Pan's second. In its barest outlines, the boastful Pan (bass) gets his comeuppance at the hands of Phoebus Apollo (bass) who challenges him to a contest to be decided by their respective seconds, Midas (tenor) and Tmolus (tenor). The ignorance and sycophancy of Midas betray the emptiness of Pan's claim, and the added support given by the ostensibly more neutral Momus (soprano) and Mercurius (alto) to Tmolus's judgment in favor of Apollo results in Midas's ultimate disgrace. Pan somehow manages to slink out the back door unnoticed.

The cantata opens with a choral display, Geschwinde, geschwinde, ihr wirbelneden Winde, a large, da capo chorus (Mvt. 1) which doesn't tell us much of anything other than that the subject of the cantata is music itself, with references to "to-and-fro" alluding to the impending contest. Swirling instrumental flourishes represent the agitated winds, triplet figurations which are passed continuously among the instrumental voices so that they appear in every single measure of the first 106. Could the banishing of the winds with this grand tutti opening serve a dual purpose? Could it be not only an introduction to the plot, but also a very pointed message to potentially unruly patrons of Zimmerman’s coffeehouse where this was first performed by the Collegium Musicum in 1729? "Hey, folks, listen up!" (What was, in fact, expected etiquette from a coffeehouse audience in early 18^th-century Leipzig? Other accounts that I’ve read of audience behavior at that time would suggest that perhaps rude and boisterous conduct might be the rule.)

Over the course of the next 13 movements, each of the 6 soloists has his opportunity to shine, 6 arias alternating with 7 recitatives, with each aria setting out a clearly defined position for each soloist.

The opening salvo belongs to Momus, who, not surprisingly, characterizes Pan as nothing more than a windbag. Her Patron, das macht der Wind is followed by the competition arias of Phoebus and Pan, their differences only accentuated by their proximity. Phoebus's tribute to youthful love and beauty as personified by the comely Hyacinth is, oddly enough, accompanied by the flute which one might associate with Pan, whose own accompaniment to his blustery aria is provided by relatively more neutral unison violins. The competition is no contest, and designedly so. Phoebus's passionate utterance provides an eloquent contrast to the simplistic buffoonery of Pan's coarse melody, 8 different examples of which can be found on the website at http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Mus/BWV201-Mus.htm

I would like to interject here that one of the challenges of providing introductions to the cantatas during this second round is the comprehensive and often exhaustive material provided by Aryeh during the first round. I cannot recommend strongly enough that readers return to those discussions for an overview. With respect to BWV 201, Aryeh suggests (at http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV201-D.htm): "Good commentaries on this cantata can be found in most liner notes to the recordings as well as elsewhere. But after reading many of them, it seems to me that Alfred Dürr has said almost every important thing that should be said about this work." Aryeh offers this observation, of course, after providing us with Dürr’s complete commentary, unquestionably a tough act to follow!

The competition arias of Apollo and Pan are followed, set off by recitatives, of course, by the judgment arias of Tmolus and Midas. Tmolus's judicious response is followed by the misguided inanities of Midas, highlighted by the imitative donkey hee-haw that definitively puts him in his place.

The ensuing recitative gives everyone an opportunity to dump on Midas, including even Pan, who clearly enjoys the opportunity to divert attention from his own losing cause. Mercurius's aria follows in which he metaphorically skewers ignorant criticism, and Momus, in the penultimate moveme, sends Midas on his way with a warning to him and those like him that their fate will be banishment from and ridicule by the company of cultured listeners. The proceedings end in a chorus that Dürr calls "an enthusiastic hymn to music." Both instruments and voices are given prominence in a reconciliation of art and music that stands as a rebuke to the ignorant.

BWV 201 is what I like to think of as unbuttoned Bach at his best. I can only imagine what enjoyment he must have experienced in writing and performing such an engaging assortment of recitatives, arias, and choruses. One cannot but respond immediately to the comedic character and charms of this cantata, and I hope List members will share their reactions. Comments and observations on all aspects of the music, the drama, and/or noteworthy performances are welcome.

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 29, 2008):
Stephen Benson wrote:
< BWV 201 is what I like to think of as unbuttoned Bach at his best. I can only imagine what enjoyment he must have experienced in writing and performing such an engaging assortment of recitatives, arias, and choruses. One cannot but respond immediately to the comedic character and charms of this cantata, and I hope List members will share their reactions. Comments and observations on all aspects of the music, the drama, and/or noteworthy performances are welcome. >
Bach's comic secular cantatas have always been a problem for the Romantic myth of the Pious Earnest Bach. Bach was supposed to be devout and serious, writing religious music not heading out to Zimmerman's for an afternoon of secular romps. These cantatas are a wonderful corrective to the notion of Leipzig as a provincial backwater. An extended satire written in a fashionable operatic style tells us that Leipzig was a sophisticated cultural centre where there was the tug and tustle of artistic and philosophical taste and debate. Bach was clearly in the centre of the intellectual life of the city and not some grumpy old puritan.

Although it's highly unlikely that the cantata was staged with elaborate sets and machinery to depict the whirling winds, there was certainly a tradition of semi-staging of works like this in which the characters were costumed and stood before a painted backdrop. A small corps of dancers may have performed during dance and choral movements. Händel's 'Acis and Galatea' is a good example. It was written for performance in a hall not an opera house.

Those of you who have seen the productions ot Opera Atelier will know that extremely effective dramatic presentations can be fashioned from the simplest of sets and costumes.

And while we're in the operatic sphere, the Ovidian contest of singers can be seen as late as Wagner's "Meistersinger".

Neil Halliday wrote (June 29, 2008):
The choruses of this cantata are scored for remarkably large forces: 3 trumpets, timpani, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, strings, S,A,T1,T2,B1,B2, and continuo.

The vocal lines are marked:
1. (S) Momus e Soprano
2. (A) Mercurius ed Alto
3. (T1) Tmolus e Tenore 1
4. (T2) Midas e Tenore 2
5 (B1) Phoebus e Basso 1
6 (B2) Pan e Basso 2

Interestingly, according to the BGA this implies 4VPP on the vocal bass line because B1 and B2 are virtually identical, except for a few instances in the final chorus where B1 is an octave above or below B2.

Stephen Benson wrote (June 29, 2008):
Neil Halliday wrote:
< The choruses of this cantata are scored for remarkably large forces: 3 trumpets, timpani, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, strings, S,A,T1,T2,B1,B2, and continuo. >
Could this have been the result of Bach having the Collegium Musicum resources at hand for the first time?

Neil Halliday wrote (June 29, 2008):
Stephen Benson wrote:
>Could the banishing of the winds with this grand tutti opening serve a dual purpose? Could it be not only an introduction to the plot, but also a very pointed message to potentially unruly patrons of Zimmerman's coffeehouse where this was first performed by the Collegium Musicum in 1729?<
I doubt Bach would have intended to admonish his audience in this fashion; in setting the scene, I'm sure his overt purpose (in this opening chorus) is to denigrate certain fatuous critics and their wayward ideas, by representing them as whirling winds which are to be banished together into a cavern, with the resonating echo of their disappearance being pleasing even to the airs - quite an effective insult if my reading is correct.

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 29, 2008):
Neil Halliday wrote:
< in setting the scene, I'm sure his overt purpose (in this opening chorus) is to denigrate certain fatuous critics and their wayward ideas, by representing them as whirling winds which are to be banished together into a cavern, with the resonating echo of their disappearance being pleasing even to the airs - quite an effective insult if my reading is correct. >
Not having access to any recent recordings, I'm curious how various conductors handle the straight sixteenth notes in the voices when pitted against the triplet sixteenths in the orchestra.

Bars 70 -75 are a good example.

Is the pickup on "Gescwinde" a straight sixteenth or adjusted to agree with the final triplet sixteenth of the instruments?

In bar 71, is the sequence of straight sixteenths in the vocal bass adjusted to become triplet long-short figures? (the harmony is more consonant if they do)

The problem doesn't arise in the B section as both voices and orchestra have the same rhythhmic figures (except for the brief triplet run in bar 138). The shift back to the A section is a very tricky transition for any ensemble. If the B section picks up speed, even marginally, it is hard to recover the original tempo. I half-wonder if this rhythmic instability is Bach's way of depicting chaos in nature and thereby in art.

Neil Halliday wrote (June 30, 2008):
BWV 201 Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan - triplets

Douglas Cowling wrote:
>Bars 70-75 are a good example. Is the pickup on "Gescwinde" a straight sixteenth or adjusted to agree with the final triplet sixteenth of the instruments?<
In Rilling's brilliant 1996 recording [12], the 'whirlwind' speed makes this difficult to answer, but I expect the answer is yes.

>In bar 71, is the sequence of straight sixteenths in the vocal bass adjusted to become triplet long-short figures?<
No; and the contrast between the straight 1/16ths in bars 33 and 35 (and bars 71 and 73) with the triplet 1/16ths in bars 37 and 39 (and 75 and 77) is most effective; I expect it would be difficult, and probably unnecessary, to actually try to line up the 1/16th notes in the manner you suggest, at the rapid tempo of this chorus.

BTW, apart from some tiny instances, only the vocal basses among the voice parts are expected to tackle these very fast triplet 1/16th figures that are continually tossed around between the instrumental groups (including continuo with some extended passages that no doubt give the violone player quite a workout!). Perhaps this reflects the importance of the basses in the upcoming play, which revolves around a contest between two bass singers (Phoebus and Pan). Frequent instrumental trills also enliven the proceedings.

Note the 6-part vocal unison on "Auf einmal zusammen zur Hoehle hinein" ("all together into the cave"), in bars 26-29.

The middle section is remarkable for the musical illustration of "dass Hin- und Widerschallen" of the vanishing winds, through alternating syncopation between choir and orchestra. Rilling [12] maintains the same tempo in this section.

What we have with this brilliant 'tour de force' (the opening chorus) is nothing less than Bach the magician/sorcerer summoning the wayward winds (wayward critics) and banishing them to a cave.

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 30, 2008):
Neil Halliday wrote:
< Note the 6-part vocal unison on "Auf einmal zusammen zur Hoehle hinein" ("all together into the cave"), in bars 26-29. >
Bach has a similar unison passage at the end of each section of the opening chorus of "Ach Flüchtig" -- another depiction of the stormy passage of hlife.

Ed Myskowski wrote (June 30, 2008):
Bach & Kuhnau [was: BWV 201]

Steve Benson wrote (BWV 201 intro):
>The second performance, 20 years later, came in 1749 in the form of a scathing response to those whom Bach considered at that moment to be particularly ignorant critics -- either Johann Gottlob Biedermann or the Saxon premiere Count Bruhl or both. Clearly, unenlightened criticism was an issue which plagued Bach throughout his career and to which he was particularly sensitive.<
Ed Myskowski replies:
I was about to let this detail from Kuhnau pass, but I cannot help but notice the similarity (and contrast). I previously cited a few sentences, directly, from: A Treatise on Liturgical Settings (1710), Johann Kuhnau, included in Carol K. Baron, Bachs Changing World (thanks again, Will!). I originally meant to illustate Kuhnaus sense of humor. Faced with an earlier predicament (1710), which strikes me as analogous to Bachs, Kuhnau states (I paraphrase, and state Kuhnaus inference):

I take efforts to avoid suspicion of writing theatrical music [opera], despite the fact that the people who make the rules do not know the difference between theatrical and church music! (see Baron, p.221)

I am enjoying Bachs recits more with every listen. Does it make an <operatic impression>, or does it <inspire devotion>, if the text is appropriately devotional? Who shall decide? In the context of the human comedy, the folks who cannot tell the difference shall decide.

Ed Myskowski wrote (June 30, 2008):
BWV 201 introduction

Steve Benson wrote (BWV 201 intro):
>Other accounts that I’ve read of audience behavior at that time would suggest that perhaps rude and boisterous conduct might be the rule.<
I am speechless! Dumbfounded. As a change of pace from the more characteristic rude and boisterous.

Aryeh Oron wrote (June 30, 2008):
BWV 201 - Provenance

Thomas Braatz contributed Provenance page for Cantata BWV 201 discussion.
See: http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Ref/BWV201-Ref.htm

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 30, 2008):
Bach & Kuhnau [was: BWV 201]

Ed Myskowski wrote:
< I take efforts to avoid suspicion of writing theatrical music [opera], despite the fact that the people who make the rules do not know the difference between theatrical and church music! (see Baron, p.221)
I am enjoying Bach's recits more with every listen. Does it make an <operatic impression>, or does it <inspire devotion>, if the text is appropriately devotional? Who shall decide? In the context of the human comedy, the folks who cannot tell the difference shall decide. >
We've had this debate about "sacred" and "secular" styles before, and despite all the treatises and commentaries from the 18^th century, I just don't see any differences between the two bodies of cantatas. Much is made of the comic staccato on "wackelt" in Pan's aria, "Zu Tanze", yet Bach uses precisely the same effect on "lachen" in the opening chorus of the "Easter Oratorio" (BWV 249). When does boisterous guffawing become pious rejoicing? In fact, I'm susprised that "Geschwinde" with its big choruses was never recycled as a sacred cantata.

And despite all the contemporary commentaries about performing styles, did Bach perform "Tönet ihr Pauken" differently when it became the opening of the "Christmas Oratorio" (BWV 248). Were there differences in tempo, articulation, dynamics, ornamentation, singing styles? I doubt it.

I suspect that the whole debate about "sacred" and "secular" styles of music and performance was a faux-debate which allowed musicians to defend the "modern" concerted style against a growing sentiment against elite art music in the liturgy which ultimately triumphed at the end of the 18^th century. Where are the great Lutheran composers of the last quarter of the 18^th century? There are none because the sacred music business changed and put them out of work.

Uri Golomb wrote (June 30, 2008):
[Regarding Bach & Kuhnau] In Bach's case, I believe there really is little or no distinction between church and secular style. This distinction is usually made in an attempt to find things you can do in secular contexts but not in sacred ones; but in reality, the only distinction I noticed works the other way around. To wit: there are no chorale melodies in secualr works, at least as far as I know. Which means that all chorale-related manners of writing -- harmonised chorales, chorale-and-aria combinations, chorale fantasias for choir and orchestra, and so forth -- are absent from the secular works. But this is about something you cannot take out of the church. I doubt if Bach ever stopped himself from bringing anything into the church.

Some of my readings suggest that this general merge between the sacred and the secular was very much in the spirit of the time: the union of secular and liturgical music was increasingly advocated in Bach's lifetime by several prominent figures, such as Erdmann Neumeister and Johann Mattheson. Gottfried Ephraim Scheibel's 1721 treatise on church music (partly translated in Bach's Changing World) includes a detailed argument in favour of adopting secular, even operatic music into liturgical works, advocating much of what Bach has been practicing (again, see Joyce Irwin in Bach's Changing World). But these writers advocated this as an innovation -- a way to enrich liturgical music. So perhaps earlier composers made more of the sacred/secular distinction. There are several earlier German BAroque composers whose sacred music I've sampled quite extensively (e.g., Weckmann, Rosenmüller, Schelle, Knüpfer, Tunder), but not their secular music; so I cannot really say how the two compare (I'll have to check again which of these composers actually wrote secular vocal music).

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 30, 2008):
Aryeh Oron wrote:
< Thomas Braatz contributed Provenance page for Cantata BWV 201 discussion.
See: http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Ref/BWV201-Ref.htm >
Despite the valuable factual information in this description, there are several imbedded opinions which cannot be admitted as fact.

"This is a composing score that makes quite clear that parodies are not involved in any of the movements: it is definitely an original composition composed in great haste as apparent from the many corrections ..."

We simply don't know if parodies are involved. "Composing score" makes it sound like this is a special genre of manuscript. It isn't. This was a conducting score as well. Nor is the state of the score any indication of haste. That assumption has also been levelled at immaculately-transcribed scores and parts.

Nor is there any evidence that did Bach not conduct the performance:

"His ill health would most likely have prevented this".

Harrer's audition for Bach's position in June 1749 was premature. Wolff points out that Bach oversaw the performance of the Easter Oratorio (BWV 249) in 1750.

My chief concern here is that these "Provenance" pages are being given a status which no other submissions receive. Many visitors to the site will assume that these are factual reference pages.

Lest I be accused of fanning flame wars, let me state that I miss Thomas Braatz's regular contribution of original documentation and especially the translations. The original problem -- and it continues in this posting -- was that historical data was not kept separate from the personal commentary.

We should all welcome speculation, but not in a FAQ page.

Douglas Cowling wrote (June 30, 2008):
Uri Golomb wrote:
< To wit: there are no chorale melodies in secualr works, at least as far as I know. >
I've always thought that the little folk mthroughput the "Peasant Cantata" (BWV 212) are a secular wink at chorales in a church cantata.

Stephen Benson wrote (June 30, 2008):
Neil Halliday wrote:
> Bars 70-75 are a good example. Is the pickup on "Gescwinde" a straight sixteenth or adjusted to agree with the final triplet sixteenth of the instruments?<
In Rilling's brilliant 1996 recording [12], the 'whirlwind' speed makes this difficult to answer, but I expect the answer is yes. >
Since this is a "yes" answer to an either/or question -- 'straight' or 'adjusted' -- I'm not sure what the answer represents. There do seem to be differences among the three recordings to which I listened, especially if one listens to the "Geschwinde" entrances throughout the rest of the movement. Koopman [11] and Schreier [6], at slower tempos than the 1996 Rilling [12], seem to give greater emphasis to that first syllable of "Geschwinde", stretching it out a little bit, giving it more of a straight sixteenth feel, and thereby giving it more of an independent existence. Rilling, and it IS difficult to hear at the faster tempo, seems to utilize the syllable more as an upbeat anticipating a stronger downbeat and therefore feels a little shorter. Please note that I used the word "seem" three times here. All of this, of course, may simply be a function of the differences in tempo.

>In bar 71, is the sequence of straight sixteenths in the vocal bass adjusted to become triplet long-short figures?<
< No; and the contrast between the straight 1/16ths in bars 33 and 35 > (and bars 71 and 73) with the triplet 1/16ths in bars 37 and 39 (and 75 and 77) is most effective; I expect it would be difficult, and probably unnecessary, to actually try to line up the 1/16th notes in the manner you suggest, at the rapid tempo of this chorus. >
This is true of the Koopman [11] and Schreier [6] recordings, as well. It may also be worth noting that the same rhythmic contrast occurs in the B section in mm. 124-126, although there the opposition is not between voices and instruments, but between trumpets and woodwinds. As clear as the distinction is there -- and it IS easier to hear with these instruments than in the other examples -- consistency would suggest that the vocal/instrumental contrasts in the other examples would be handled in the same way.

William Hoffman wrote (July 1, 2008):
Wink & Nod [was: BWV 201]

Douglas Cowling
"I've always thought that the little folk melodies throughout the "Peasant Cantata" are a secular wink at chorales in a church cantata."
William Hoffman replies: I think Bach was following a long-standing tradition, adding a twist or two. Go back to the Middle Ages when folk-drinking, -fighting, and -loving-songs made their way into the Mass. Only the monks (and the people) knew for sure and they had a field day in Carmina Burana, which incidentally has a section of Passion Music in all its forms (intensity, suffering, eroticism, and anger -- the makings of an opera seria?). And there is Palestrina's "Missa sine nomine," (which Bach presented c1742) "without an acknowledged known thematic source," says the Naxos program notes, because it "may be based on material of secular origin, carefully hidden to follow the dictates of the Council of Trent, which had forbidden such practice." There are many examples in Bach of the 1730s which we can discuss. Bach had his cake, and ate it all, too -- with a wink and a nod!

William's speculations: The flow was often from the profane to the so-called sacred and with special thanks to the Catholic bretheren for their self-indulgences and universal contributions. You see, we can have the best of both worlds -- or all possible worlds!

Neil Mason wrote (July 1, 2008):
[To Douglas Cowling, regarding Bach & Kuhnau] I am absolutely sure you are correct, with all your examples. I can't help thinking that there were a number of contemporaries who wished it were otherwise, but the music itself supports you, in my opinion.

Neil Halliday wrote (July 1, 2008):
Stephen Benson wrote:
>Since this is a "yes" answer to an either/or question -- 'straight' or 'adjusted' -- I'm not sure what the answer represents.<
Sorry, I rewrote that in haste after losing my first reply; I meant to answer Doug's second proposition - "adjusted" - in the affirmative (agreeing with your subsequent observations about Rilling's 1996 recording [12]).

Yes, the straight 1/16^th trumpet notes in the middle section can be clearly heard (briefly) against the triplets in the woodwinds; thanks, I hadn't noticed this.

>As clear as the distinction is there -- and it IS easier to hear with these instruments than in the other examples -- consistency would suggest that the vocal/instrumental contrasts in the other examples would be handled in the same way.<
Agreed, and in any case the 'two against three' effect is pleasing especially at this tempo, so why change it?

------

Phoebus' aria (Mvt. 5) has some striking examples of this 'two against three' effect in the latter bars of the ritornello (bars 17-20 and 22) and later in the aria. The continuo's straight 1/16ths (2^nd and 3^rd beats - the first beat has triplets) contrast strongly with the first violins' triplets.

Something I first noticed in the score even though I had heard the piece a couple of times before: as the bass vocalist enters (in Mvt. 5), the upper instruments successively pass on a lovely phrase - from flute, to oboe, to 1^st violin to 2^nd violin.

------

Stephen Guy in previous discussions wondered about continuo instrumentation; Rilling [12] has considerable variety of continuo instrumentation, to good effect, depending on the cast in the particular aria. eg, Momus' aria has cello and harpsichord; Mercurius' aria has bassoon and harpsichord (plus flutes - a delightful aria); Tmolus' aria has bassoon, double bass, harpsichord (plus oboe d'amore); Midas and Pan have cello, double bass and harpsichord ( plus unison violins); and Phoebus has all four continuo instruments (plus flute, oboe, and upper strings).

--------

Speaking of rhythm, there is a striking little rhythmic feature at the end of the middle section of Mercurius' (alto) aria, on "drowns in injury and disgrace".

-----

Re the discussion of church versus secular, I can't help thinking that Pan's aria, as vividly performed by Rilling [12] (wack-ack-ack-ack; and the deliberately laborious descending chromatic phrase on the violins in the middle section), would be out of place in a church setting, not to mention Midas' aria with the 'growing asses ears' imagery in the violins (and continuo). However, Tmolus aria could no doubt slip into a church service without causing any consternation.

William Hoffman wrote (July 1, 2008):
BWV 201 - Provenance -- Time Out!!!

William Hoffman responds [to Douglas Cowling]: In the midst of a wide-ranging, stimulating, thoughtful discussion of topics provoked by Cantata BWV 201, comes a critical note. I wonder if this in part is the successor to the personal controversies Bach had: with Gaudlitz, both Ernesti's, Scheibe, and Biedermann -- the last, not his finest hour. His was dying, weary and it was the last straw -- the ultimate insult and Bach did take it very personally. He'd had, quoting Carol Baron, a lifetime of "Tumultuous Philosophers, Pious Rebels, Revolutionary Teachers, Pedantic Clerics, Vengeful Bureaucrats, Threatened Tyrants, Worldly Mystics" -- all good old boys! I have thoroughly relished all the positive, constructive, insightful, generous comments from everyone. Perhaps we should divide the Cantata Weekly discussions into several sections: Recordings, the Music itself, Search for Truth, and Thoughts from Tumultuous Philosphers, etc. etc.

Respectfully, the World's Oldest Living Graduate Student and Recovered Journ.

William Hoffman wrote (July 2, 2008):
Cantata 201: Fugitive Notes

Cantata BWV 201 could be a secular repertory work which Bach kept readily at hand for future performances. Besides the specific 1729 inaugural performance and the 1749 Biedermann presentation, there appears from the materials small changes presuming at least one performance in the latter 1730s, perhaps in conjunction with the Scheibe affair.

Beyond any historical-cultural references, I think the work is a substantial generic, satiric commentary on the conflict between so-called "high" and "low" art. Also, it is an ambitious work in length, performing resources, and treatment of the subject. Other secular repertory cantatas could be BWV 208(a) tafelmusik, presented in 1713 as well as in Köthen and in 1742, and perhaps Cantata BWV 205(a), 1725 and 1734. There is no record that any of these three secular works being substantially parodied into sacred works.

As to possible parodies, Douglas Cowling wonders: "I'm surprised that `Geschwinde' with its big choruses was never recycled as a sacred cantata." There is the slightest possibility that the opening chorus as well as substantial arias and choruses from Cantatas BWV 205(a), BWV 206 and BWV 207(a) may have been parodied in a lost Pentecost Oratorio in 1735, text by Picander? That concept was raised by Alfred Dürr in his comments to the 1962 Baerenreiter edition of the Christmas Oratorio and repeated in passing in his Bach Cantata Book (p.44). Picander's words of whirling wind and Bach's musical affect in the opening chorus of Cantata BWV 201 are reminiscent of Luke's text in Acts 2:2 , (Martin Luther translation) where the Holy Spirit descends, "als einer gewaltigen Windes." Is this more than a mere coincidence; a serendipitous situation?

Beyond the comments in the NBA KB I/40 from Thomas Braatz and Dürr's, here are some interesting insights and my fugitive thoughts:

Martin Geck, JSB Life and Work, pp. 189-194: An account of the Leipzig Collegium musicum, with its 40-plus performing members; Bach's succession to the directorship in 1729; and the immediate opportunity its resources offer Bach, especially Cantatas BWV 174, BWV 149, and BWV 171. I also think it's possible that Bach had opportunities to lead members of the Collegium musicum, who also performed at the University New Church, in works performed there previously, such as Cantatas BWV 59 in 1723 and BWV 198 in 1727; works Bach presented to the Dresden nobility (Cantatas BWV Anh. 9 and BWV 193a, in 1727); and University events (Cantatas BWV Anh. 1 in 1723, BWV 205 in 1725, and BWV 207 in 1726).

Peter Williams: JSB: A Life in Music, pp. 206-09, writes about the significance of the Bach involvement with the Collegium musicum: opportunities not only for him but his two oldest sons, the resources available, motive and method of Bach securing the position, and the influence on chamber repertory which I think could include Cantatas BWV 209, BWV 202, and BWV 210. Also, I think it's no coincidence that not only was Bach able to get some of the necessary resources for a well-appointed church music, belatedly, and still sporadically, but also that he had just enjoyed two personal triumphs and creative benchmarks with his SMP (BWV 244) and its parody, the Köthen Funeral Music, BWV 244a, as he moved to assume the Collegium musicum leadership and leave behind the daily frustrations of church life for stimulating and greater new vistas.

Stephen Benson wrote (July 3, 2008):
Neil Halliday wrote:
> In Rilling's brilliant 1996 recording [12] <
The three recordings to which I've been listening each elicit different and distinct reactions from me. (I realize I have to be particularly careful about expressing my preferences with respect to this cantata, with asses' ears so readily available for distribution!) Koopman’s performers [11], for the most part, seem remarkably distanced from both the text and the music. The notes are all there, but the performers don't seem to be. They just don't seem to connect. Schreier's recording in the Brilliant Classics boxed set [6] is quite enjoyable -- a marked improvement from Koopman in liveliness and energy. Rilling's 1996 recording [12], however, is in a class by itself. He, his instrumentalists, and his singers all seem to have jumped wholeheartedly into the group spirit of the thing from the beginning. Everybody is immediately engaged and takes part in the fun. I like to think of it as the 'thrilling' Rilling. To me it is one of THE essential Bach recordings.

I do have a decided preference for the Momus of Koopman's Caroline Stam [11], who displays just the right degree of a sort of saucy, impudent, mocking buoyancy. As for Mercurius, the performance of Ingeborg Danz in Rilling's recording [12] deserves special mention. Along with her singing, the ebullience of the flute duet and the playful bassoon of Gunter Pfitzenmaier, which percolates along at a merry clip, stand out in her "Aufgeblasne Hitze". For what it's worth, especially from such a small sample, my other preferences with respect to the principal characters include Peter Schreier's [6] Tmolus, James Taylor's Midas, Siegfried Lorenz's Phoebus, and Dietrich Henschel's Pan. The choruses, for me, both belong exclusively to Rilling. His opening "Geschwinde" generates the energy of the winds he is describing, and his triumphant concluding chorus proves a fitting finale.

Neil Halliday wrote (July 3, 2008):
Stephen Benson wrote:
> I do have a decided preference for the Momus of Koopman's Caroline Stam [11], who displays just the right degree of a sort of saucy, impudent, mocking buoyancy.<
I agree completely; hers is the most attractive soprano voice among those that can be heard in the available BCW amazon samples, viz. Leonhardt [10], Rilling [12], Koopman [11], and Albrecht [14].

Otherwise, Rilling's recording [12] is most likely the exemplar.

Jean Laaninen wrote (July 5, 2008):
BWV 201 - catching up and thanks to Stephen and Uri

After puzzling over which direction to go with future listening I finally decided on Classical.com. The price is reasonable, and the results are very good. I finally got to listen to this cantata (BWV 201) all the way through and I loved it. I believe Doug might have been the one who mentioned the sophistication of the time of Bach's writing, and certainly this little pastoral style opera is a delight representing Bach's versatility as a composer. I particularly liked the instrumentation in the alto aria.

I want to thank Stephen for his comprehensive introduction - it was great. And belated thanks to Uri for his recent work. I am only just now starting to catch up with the schedule, but happy to have a good listening set-up that works well with my computer finally.

Stephen Benson wrote (July 5, 2008):
Jean Laaninen wrote:
< I finally got to listen to this cantata (BWV 2) all the way through and I loved it. >
As this week's discussion draws to a close, Jean's comment gives me an opportunity to express my surprise that such a wonderful piece of music elicited so few responses. Has everything been said about BWV 201?

I'd still like to find out what performing conditions were like at Zimmerman's, if only to see what kinds of challenges Bach would face there, an issue that I was sure someone on the List could shed some light on. Is there anything in the music that might be a reaction to that change in venue? I refer here to the brilliant opening, the appearance at several places in the score of explosive punctuations on the single-syllable "Pan!", the exigencies of the more theatrical dramatic medium, and the possibility of contemporary allusions which might be overlooked by modern audiences. After all, a coffeehouse is NOT a church! (And, to go back to my earlier question, how would an 18^th-century Leipzig coffee-house audience have reacted to the "hee-haw" in "Pan ist meister"? A slight smile? A suppressed giggle? Guffaws? Hooting and hollering?)

Only three of the 14 available recordings (according to the website) were even mentioned, although it IS hard to imagine anyone topping the 1996 Rilling [12]!

And a question that occurred to me later in the week that has particular relevance to the recent discussions about recitatives -- is there anywhere else in Bach's works where 6 principal singers get to state their positions so clearly in a single recitative as they do in "Wie, Midas, bist du toll" (Mvt. 12).

Yet another question that occurs to me as I write this: were the all-encompassing late works of Bach -- the Art of Fugue (BWV 1080), the Mass in B Minor (BWV 232), etc. -- the final answer to the very questions posed in "The Contest between Phoebus and Pan"? Were those works Bach's fulfillment of the need to justify the compositional ideals expressed here and thus constitute a direct link to this 1729 "operatic" farce?

Finally, I come full circle to the why of the question I posed in the beginning, the relatively minimal punishment suffered by Pan from all of this, and the image I have of him returning to the woods to frolic with his groupie nymphs as expressed in the Bougereau "Nymphs and Satyr"

Oh, well, maybe next round!

P.S. If anyone IS in the vicinity and does visit the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, MA, to check out the Bougereau painting -- to my mind, a worthy objective -- remember that you'll be only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Ed's (figuratively!) Berkshire Record Outlet. I think the definition of "immediate gratification" is, after walking in with a prepared list of CD's and handing it to one of the helpful staff members, walking out of there 20 minutes later with an armload of ridiculously inexpensive discs. No fuss. No muss. No shipping and handling. No waiting for the package to arrive at the post office.

Vivat205 wrote (July 5, 2008):
BWV 201 Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan - Recordings

Stephen Benson wrote:
>> I do have a decided preference for the Momus of Koopman's Caroline Stam [11], who displays just the right degree of a sort of saucy, impudent, mocking buoyancy.<<
Neil Halliday wrote:
< I agree completely; hers is the most attractive soprano voice among those that can be heard in the available BCW amazon samples, viz. Leonhardt [10], Rilling [12], Koopman [11], and Albrecht [14].
Otherwise, Rilling's recording [12] is most likely the exemplar. >
Absolutely agree that Rilling's recording [12] sets the standard. What I find really intriguing about the well-performed Albrecht [14] is its imaginary performance as "a complete dramatic opera rather than a hommage," with a 3-part overture (Sinfonia & Adagio from BWV 249a plus a march lifted from a propulsive chorus from BWV 207a); after 201 proper is done, the performance wraps up with a repeat of the BWV 207a marche. Purists would conspicuously roll their eyeballs at this, but Bach did self-parody after all, and it works--both as to content and performance.

Douglas Cowling wrote (July 5, 2008):
Vivat205 wrote:
< Absolutely agree that Rilling's recording [12] sets the standard. What I find really intriguing about the well-performed Albrecht [14] is its imaginary performance as "a complete dramatic opera rather than a hommage," >
I'm surprised that this list hasn't gone to town on the possibility of this as Bach's "opera".

We have endless tiffs about religion, but here is a work which is unabashedly secular and worldly and we haven't talked about comparable works in the Leipzig-Dresden axis, or the performing conditions: semi-staged? Women singers? Who attended the performance? What other works had similar performances?

Come on folks, ain't nothing Lutheran here!

Vivat205 wrote (July 5, 2008):
[To Douglas Cowling] The phenomenal Washington Bach Consort (J. Reilly Lewis, cond.) has a history of performing the non-liturgical secular cantatas as mini-operas/dramas, complete with costumes and some staging. Their #205 a couple of years ago was the highlight of my concert-attending life (which includes lots of Karajan, Haitink, Muti, Böhm, and others). Last fall they did BWV 211 and this September will do BWV 207. I came to the secular cantatas late but now am "hooked" on them to the extent that I have to remind myself to listen to the sacred cantatas from time to time.

Douglas Cowling wrote (July 6, 2008):
BWV 201 Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan - The Opera

Vivat205 wrote:
< Absolutely agree that Rilling's recording [12] sets the standard. What I find really intriguing about the well-performed Albrecht [14] is its imaginary performance as "a complete dramatic opera rather than a hommage," with a 3-part overture (Sinfonia & Adagio from BWV 249a plus a march lifted from a propulsive chorus from 207a); after 201 proper is done, the performance wraps up with a repeat of the BWV 207a marche. Purists would conspicuously roll their eyeballs at this, but Bach did self-parody after all, and it works--both as to content and performance. >
Here are Albrecht's liner notes [14] for Bach's "opera". The imaginary description of the performance is intriguing. I like this comment:

"Let us put aside at this point all musicological knowledge and attempt to separate ourselves from our view of the spiritual Bach. Let us imagine the normal person, the worldly Johann Sebastian with his tendency towards
sensuality, esprit and humour, and let our imagination run wild."

**********************************************************
Dramma per Musica (Cantata BWV 201)
Münchener Bach-Chor · Bach-Collegium München
Hansjörg Albrecht, conductor

If Bach had written an operaS Bach¹s secular cantatas live and breathe due to the musical-dramatic talent of the baroque master¹s polyphony. A talent that also distinguishes his oratorios and that confused not a few of his contemporaries, who did not expect such intense dramatic action in the context of sacred spaces. He often titled his secular cantatas as in the case of BWV 201 "Dramma per musica". If Bach had written an operas. This thought inspired Hansjörg Albrecht to develop Cantata BWV 201, '"Der Wettstreit zwischen Phoebus und Pan", into a mini-opera. He added an overture as well as beginning and final chorfrom other Bach works to create a musical-dramatic work that would have been appropriate for an evenings entertainment at any baroque court.

Founded in 1954 by Karl Richter, the Münchener Bach-Chor has been directed since the 2005/2006 season by Hansjörg Albrecht, who has given the choir a new artistic profile within a very short time.

Johann Sebastian Bach
Der streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan
The Contest between Phoebus and Pan
Dramma per musica (Cantata BWV 201)

Momus ...... Simone Nold, soprano
Mercurius ...... Annette Markert, alto
Tmolus ...... Markus Schäfer, tenor
Midas ...... Werner Güra, tenor
Phoebus ...... Konrad Jarnot, baritone
Pan ...... Stephan Genz, baritone

Münchener Bach-Chor
Bach Collegium München
Hansjörg Albrecht

Bach and the "Dramma per musica"
"Heaven forbid! It is as if one was in an opera comedie."

This sole surviving critique by an unknown noblewoman of the performance of Bach's Passion of St. Mathew on Good Friday in the year 1729 allows us to sense the impression left by this grand musical drama. Bach¹s music, in which elements of the Italian opera and concert-style are fused together, was anything but simply "beautiful", its drama and the absence of any visual depiction on stage forced the audience to experience the piece at the spiritual level. The interpretation of a "theater for the mind" is called for, and one need not be bothered by the word Ocomedie¹, for it has nothing to do with what we understand as comedy today. Theater troupes often performed serious pieces, but the actors themselves remained "comedians". Comedie in this context then means simply a piece for the theater.

Johann Sebastian Bach never composed an opera, but the question is repeatedly and justifiably raised as to whether he might have become the most important opera composer of the Baroque, if he had received a position at the court in Dresden for example. The transition between church and secular music was nothing unusual in his work, and the courtly Baroque aspiration to rank and honour was certainly well known to him. It was a matter of course for him to effectively incorporate kettle drums and trumpets, either as the regalia of nobility and might, or for the glorification and praise of God and the monarchs chosen by him to rule on earth. This equivalency of spiritual and secular power has become as strange to us as the world view held at that time.

Throughout his life, Bach concentrated on solidifying his professional authority through tenaciously pursued career advancement and nominations: he was musical director in Köthen until 1729, and titular musical director of Weissenfels until 1735. Starting in 1736 he carried the title of "Court Composer of the Saxon Electoral Prince and Polish King". Bach was not just the pious man and cantor that he is gladly seen as, but rather he considered himself a bandmaster and worked as such during his lifetime. As such, he left artistic creations to posterity, such as his Four Orchestral Suites and his Concerts avec Plusieurs Instruments (Six Brandenburg Concertos), that were meant for more than just a church performance. And his secular cantatas, which he often labeled as "Dramma per musica" are among the best music for a bandmaster, although today they are often, and unfortunately, considered ³occassional compositions² performed as niche work.

"A cantata looks like a piece from an opera."

This quote comes from Bach¹s friend, the first pastor of Hamburg and cantata text author Erdmann Neumeister. His credo was directional for Bach from the very beginning, and although he unlike his colleagues Reinken and Telemann never wrote an opera, he was always inclined towards the dramatic. In Hamburg, where Bach spent considerable time, he may have visited the opera house on Gänsemarkt (which was then a leading theater where works from Handel, Mattheson and Keiser were performed) and derived important inspiration for the, in parts, very dramatic musical language of his cantatas and passions. And in Leipzig, the German trade and exposition city, which was no less important than Hamburg, and which Bach visited from his position at the Köthen court, enjoyed numerous popular opera performances. Thereto he was acquainted with various musicians of the Dresden court chapel. He was also friends with the ³master² of the court opera, Johann Adolph Hasse and his wife, the opera diva Faustina Bordoni, and both visited Bach in Leipzig. In 1731 Bach experienced the premier of Hasse's opera Cleofide in the court theater during a concert tour through Dresden, and affectionately termed the arias "beautiful songs". The "Grand Opera House" in Dresden, built at the behest of August II ("the Strong") was erected by both German and Italian artists and architects such as Pöppelmann, Permoser and the Mauro brothers. It boasted not only 2000 seats, but also attained the reputation of the largest German theater in Europe. During the reign of the italophile a Saxon Electoral Prince and Polish King who converted to Catholicism and his son August III, composers such as Lotti, Hasse and Naumann provided for Italian operatic majesty at the Saxon court. Johann Sebastian Bach as an artistic "fuser" of the Italian, French and German styles possessed a great affinity for the opera; at least the new opera house stood close to the Church of St. Sophia in which his son Wilhelm Friedemann was organist starting in the year 1733.

Let us put aside at this point all musicological knowledge and attempt to separate ourselves from our view of the spiritual Bach. Let us imagine the normal person, the worldly Johann Sebastian with his tendency towards sensuality, esprit and humour, and let our imagination run wild. May it not have been that Bach dreamt of a short opera during his composition? One of his new "Drammae per musica" composed not as music of homage, but as that of "opera comedie"? A work that was performed as the season opening in 1729 in a public "concert" that freed him for that evening from all churchly liabilitiess?

SIt is a tepid late summer evening. A stage has been erected on the marketplace in Leipzig, directly in front of the Apel house. Hundreds of eager spectators, many of them students, intellectuals and professors of the university, are waiting anxiously to hear what "grand music" Bach will present this evening, with his compliment of six soloists, his choir and the recently acquired student-comprised Collegium musicum. Bach had long since had his opponents, both in the church bureaucracy as well as among the musicologists, who considered his compositions as both too demanding and antiquated. Bach had to fight time and again against the council and school to demonstrate his skill in composing church music, and at the same time he had to defend himself against the proponents of the "sentimental style" who accused him of apparent artificiality and a lack of feeling. Due to rehearsals at the Café Zimmermann, it was known that this new cantata was something different, and that Bach had adopted the position of an "intellectual" and composed a lavish work that was worthy of being considered true music. In addition, the Electoral Prince has come with his family to Leipzig from Dresden in order to be honoured by the composer.

The entire square is lit by hundreds of torches, and with a virtuoso overture that Bach had composed years ago for his Shepherds Cantata ( debuted for the birthday of Duke Christian von Sachsen-Weissenfels), and that he had also usas a sinfonia in his Easter Oratorio, the evening begins with drums and the resplendent clangor of trumpets. The solo voice of the corresponding Adagio in Bachs favorite tone of B minor is performed on this evening by a flute (and not an oboe as previously). This new instrumentation is consciously chosen, and portends that this instrument will play a special role in the plot of the coming "drama". At the silent conclusion of this adagio accompanied by strings, one naturally expects another quick concerto movement. The orchestra begins with a variant of the third movement from Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Nr. 1, and the choir positioned to the right and left of the podium answers in response to the obvious orchestral prelude with the words "Rise clangorous tones of cheerful trumpets". Later it recites: "search for the most beautiful in the flutes". It is an homage to music and will find its counterpart during the evening's finale.

The last bar of the powerful three-part overture has just faded out when suddenly drums roll over the vast expanse of the square. One stands and the Electoral Prince and his family appear. The orchestra begins to play a march, the monarch gives a sign, and the curtain opens in the middle of the Competition between Phoebus and Pan.

The introductory music formally begins, whirls wildy and almost runs out of control. Bach¹s poet Christian Friedrich Henrici Picander tells of the musical competition between two vainglorious gods in an adaptation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, namely between Phoebus (Apollo) on his lyre and Pan on his flute. Bach himself sets the arias of the actors in respective keys, characteristic descriptions and refined instrumentalisation in highly artistic relation to each other. But let us return to the action on the stage. In the beginning, Aeolus the god of the winds appears to enjoy playing particularly loud during the competition by evoking a howling storm. Directly following the end of the storm, the voice of Phoebus rises from a forest glade. For him, the aesthete without equal, it is insufficient to be the god of light and art, he wants to prove that he is the best of the musicians as well. But his antipode doesn¹t wait long to appear. The goat-legged Pan, for his part god of the forests and fields, provides resistance; he himself had invented the flute, built from seven reeds of varying length. And where a duel takes place, not only of a musical nature, a critic must be present. In this case Momus, laden with wisdom, the god of criticism and scorn, begins to amuse himself at Pan¹s cost and presents himself with a basso continuo in ³middle style² (G-major) as immensely precocious. But Mercurius can¹t stand this any longer and tries to settle the dispute as a judge. He is however between two fronts, for he is the half-brother of Phoebus, and had sired Pan together with a nymph. What to do? He makes it easy on himself and suggests that each search a judge. Phoebus decides for Tmolus, the god of the mountains where the competition takes place, and Pan decides on Midas, who just happens to be present. This is the Midas who was considered a fool in ancient Greece, for he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold and almost starved as a consequences.

The decision for the judges has barely been made when Phoebus raises his voice in the esteemed circle and sings again in Bach¹s favorite key B-minor of his beloved Hyacinth. A majestic aria with the oboe d'amore, muted strings and a flute (!) the most modern sound of the late 1720s, and approaching the "sentimental style". The intelligent Momus taunts Pan at this point, although he has yet to perform a single note. Pan remains unimpressed however and leaps goat-legged to take the stage. Violins, oboe d¹amore and a basso continuo support the awkward dance and heart-rending sobs of the singer in this swashbuckling A-major. Tmolus immediately renders his verdict (made before the competition) for Phoebus, whom he adulates and imitates, having nothing but praise for his chosen god. One hears a wonderful trio of tenor, oboe d'amore and violoncello in F-sharp Minor. Could anyone object? Midas of course, for he is to take the side of Pan. In his foolishness however he overdoes it the strings imitate the ugly sound of a donkey¹s braying in this aria in D-major. He has barely finished when the experts and music critics puff themselves up and berate him liberally. Even Pan¹s father Mercurius takes the side of the victorious opponent. Phoebus not only enjoys his victory at this point, but also humiliates Midas. He begs for mercy, but Phoebus turns his ears into those of a donkey anyway. Mercurius raises didactically and full of warning his forefinger and demonstrates in his aria in E-minor how one is to play the flute. Momus, the spirit of criticism, claims the final word for himself: good music is victorious over bad music, and expert knowledge trumps ignorance. In the final movement of the chorus, which once again refers to the blare of the trumpets, the praise of high art is sung with grace.

The curtain falls, the Electoral Prince rises and the applause begins. While the family of the Electoral Prince departs, the orchestra plays the march once again in a courtly and majestic manner.

Ovid managed success in his poetry without the howling winds, the scornful Momus, the sly god Mercurius god of trade and, too, of the merchants of Leipzig. These two celestial figures were added by the libtrettist Picander to raise the tension on the stage. The evening of the premiere in Leipzig wasn¹t lacking in excitement. Johann Sebastian Bach not only composed a piece full of entertainment in his "dramma per musica", but also a desired explication of the contrast between the "artistic, dedicated and serious style, and that of the easy complaisant style" (Philipp Spitta).

We all very much enjoyed the Baroque resplendence and theatrical musical effects during this recording even though we didn¹t record an opera comedie such as Bach's Passion of St. Mathew. I would like to thank the soloists and musicians of the Bach Collegium in Munich who were willing to experiment, as well as Torsten Schreier, our inspiring sound engineer. And it wasn¹t just Bach who was dependent on finacing and favour in order to bring his pieces to the stage, therefore I thank our sponsors, the Friends of the Munich Bach Choir the Bavarian Radio and our producer Dieter Oehms who made this recording possible. I am also pleased to thank the Munich Bach Choir for their cooperation.

We wish joy and pleasure to you the listener!

Hansjörg Albrecht
translation: Maurice Sprague

Douglas Cowling wrote (July 5, 2008):
Cantata 201 - Homoerotic Love Aria?

Now here's a new take on Cantata 201: Picander as gay poet and the 1655 Rosenmüller sodomy scandal at the St. Thomas School!

***********************************************************
A Homoerotic Love Air in the Cantata
''The Quarrel Between Phoebus And Pan''
By Johann Sebastian Bach

By Frank Schrader
(translated by the editorial staff of the Androphile project)

http://www.androphile.org/preview/Library/History/jsbach/bach.htm

Preliminary Remarks

Many of the lyrics to Bach¹s cantatas appear strange to the modern listener, because they are too much rooted in the time and circumstances of their creation. Bach scholars have explored the sacred cantatas and scrutinized almost every word for its theological content; some of them even regard the texts as a direct expression of Bach's piety and attitude of mind. An interpretation of the secular cantatas seems to be more difficult, as they are often topical, and the local facts and affairs that are alluded to were well known to the audience at the time but are not easily comprehensible today. Frequently, especially in the homage cantatas, the text is based antique myths. Though there are extensive studies in the secular cantatas too, apparently the theologically formed image of Bach as it was developed in the 19th century has been an obstacle to full understanding. Actually a close look at the mythological background may lead to interesting observations, as the following example will show.

The Creation Of The Cantata BWV 201
(Translators' note: BWV = ''Bach-Werke-Verzeichnis'', index of the works of Bach)

Johann Sebastian Bach's 'dramma per musica' 'Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan' BWV 201 tells of the quarrel between the Olympian god Phoebus Apollo, the creator of the kithara, and the rural god Pan, who invented the flute. The text was written by a postal clerk and amateur poet in Leipzig, Christian Friedrich Henrici, called Picander, and published in 1732. The exact occasion for the creation of this cantata of approximately one hour playing time is not known. C. L. Hilgenfeldt remarks in his Bach biography of 1850 that the cantata was probably written in 1725 for the Saxon court. However, the features of the paper and the handwriting of the score reveal that the cantata was not written before autumn 1729. Klaus Häfner assumes that BWV 201 together with two other cantatas of the same length, of which only the texts by Picander have survived, formed a kind of trilogy produced by Bach when he had assumed his duties as director of the ''Collegium Musicum'' in the spring of 1729.

Two other performances during Bach's lifetime can be proved. The first one of them, in the second half of the 1730s, was probably Bach's reaction to attacks on his music by Johann Adolf Scheibe in the year of 1737. The performance in 1749 and the change of the text of the last recitative were presumably caused by a quarrel about a headmaster in Freiberg named Biedermann, who in his school programme maintained that too intensive a
musical culture was detrimental to young people. Bach may also have alluded to the test for the office of a choirmaster undergone by Gottlieb Harrer, a protegéé of Count Heinrich von Brühl, on the 8^th of June, 1749.

The Mythological Background of the Phoebus Air

It is to be supposed that Bach was less interested in giving an exact account of the antique tale, but mainly used it as a representation of the then current conflict between ''highly artistic, metrical, serious style'' on the one hand and ''light, merely pleasant style'' on the other hand; in the guise of Phoebus he says something for his own cause, in order to fight for his demanding music. Therefore in Bach scholarship special attention has been paid to the cantata and above all the Phoebus air. According to Philipp Spitta, the air in B minor, ''very beautiful and written with obvious passion, is a self-portrait of Bach''. Its text runs:

Mit Verlangen
Drück ich deine zarten Wangen,
Holder, schöner Hyazinth.
Und dein' Augen küss' ich gerne,
Weil sie meine Morgen-Sterne
Und der Seele Sonne sind.

(With longing
I press your tender cheeks,
Lovely, beautiful Hyacinth.
And I like to kiss your eyes,
Because they are my morning stars
And the sun of my soul.)

from Apollo, Hyakinthos and Kyparissos singing and playing (1831<1834), by Alexander Ivanov - Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

Apollo and Hyacinth

The Phoebus air is probably the first clearly homoerotic love air in musical history. That it is held in high esteem among experts could be proved by several other quotations. Nevertheless most of the authors who wrote about this cantata passed over in silence the homoerotic content of the air and restricted themselves to musical analysis; apparently it did not fit in with the traditional image of Bach that the master should have given his artistic credo in an air that depicts a homoerotic love affair. For information about the mythological background of the air, a listener of the performances directed by Bach might have resorted to a book entitled ''Gründliches Lexicon Mythologicum'', an encyclopedia of antique mythology by Benjamin Hederich, published in Leipzig in 1724, according to which ''HYACINTHUS [...] was an exceedingly beautiful boy, wherefore not only Thamyris conceived with him a kind of love that is against nature [...] but also Zephyrus and Apollo at once fell in love with him. But as he esteemed the latter higher than the former, this one was piqued, wherefore once upon a time when they both were exercising with the discus, and Apollo had thrown it high, Zephyrus blew it at Hyacinth's head so that he remained thus henceforth lying, whereupon Apollo pursued Zephyrus with his arrows, while he changed Hyacinthus into a flower of his name.''

(Bach was not the only composer to treat the theme ''Apollo and Hyacinth''. At the age of eleven years, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed a Latin school comedy ''Apollo et Hyacinthus'', which was first performed in 1767 in Salzburg. However, the author of the libretto, the Benedictine Father Rufinus Widl, transformed the tale thoroughly. As the performance of a play with homoerotic content by the pupils of a Catholic school would have been impossible for reasons of morality, the father added a female character, Melia, the sister of Hyacinthus, and lets Apollo fall in love with her. Another work treating the theme, the chamber cantata ''Apollo und Hyacinth'', improvisations for cembalo, alto and eight solo instruments after lyrics by Georg Trakl, was composed by Hans Werner Henze [*1926] in 1948.)

Bach exercises all his skill to give an adequate idea of the passion with which Phoebus desires to kiss Haycinth. He shows his mastery of metrics without making the air appear studied. Phoebus's voice is accompanied by strings and basso continuo, a flute and, very appropriately, one ''oboe d'amore''. Musically the air is of no different model than heterosexual love airs by Bach. In 1865, the Bach biographer Carl Hermann Bitter wrote of the air of Phoebus: ''It is worked with great care and of the noblest melodic charm. Obviously Bach wanted to represent the perfect art of the god not only in his singing but also with the orchestra. The instruments, led in sweet mellifluence, move, elaborately entwined, with and beside the singing. This develops into a love song on the beautiful Hyacinth, which speaks of yearning and tender desire. Here is the feeling and soul of expression, here are the sighs of ardent love dying away in soft chords breathing voluptuousness, here rises the melody in swelling modulation, all enveloped with a fragrant filmy veil woven by the instruments. We see the divine form of the handsome singer, wrapped in the heavenly charm in which ancient Greek myth lets the sun god so often descend to human propensities, and we see next to him the blooming beauty of the boy, for whom the soft enraptured singing sounds. Bach wanted to give the best he could give in such a way, and he has delivered a delicious masterpiece which would have done the immortal singer of love, Mozart, honour.'' In a review of the cantata by Selmar Bagge which appeared in a magazine, the ''Leipziger Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung'', in the year of 1866, it is said that the competition between Phoebus and Pan begins with Phoebus

. . . singing a tender air to the "beautiful, lovely Haycinth". It would appear more appropriate by our modern standards that he should direct his tenderness to some beautiful goddess. However, the tale is set among Greek gods, and in the last century one was not yet prudish enough to take umbrage at such things [...] Our highly educated age condemns, certainly with perfect consistency, such a text as childish or even silly. The refinement that reigns today is indeed not capable of taking a naive point of view. One shrinks back at a gross expression as a sign of a crudeness luckily overcome, while the vileness and villainy that is offered us from the stage in a thousand colors is accepted without special disapproval by our 'educated' society.

How Bach's contemporaries reacted to the performances, whether threally did not ''take umbrage at such things'', as Bagge says, has not come down to us. Since Bach repeated the performance at least two times, it seems that no one was especially infuriated by the love ''against nature'' between Apollo and Hyacinth. Considering the great reservations against homoerotic love that the vast majority of the population was prone to at that time (and still is nowadays), this appears at first quite surprising. But in view of the high esteem and rank of antique fables and myths in 17^th and 18^th century poetry, such a benevolent reaction appears understandable, even though there was also no lack of criticism of mythological subjects, particularly on the part of orthodoxy and pietism.

The Author of the Text

Bach never used text of his own for his music. Little is known of his literary criteria and his relations to the librettists. Usually he took the lyrics for the cantatas as he got them. Therefore it is not possible to say exactly whether Bach or his good friend Picander was responsible for the content of the Phoebus air. But with this special cantata, which he used to defend his view on music, Bach might have left nothing to chance and also had an influence on the text.

Contemporaries reproached Picander with ''leading a dissolute life''.
J.S. Bach
J.S. Bach
In view of the Phoebus air the question arises if he might have been homosexual. At any rate it is conspicuous that he did not marry until the age of 36. Only four years after the death of his first wife he married for the second time. Both marriages remained childless. Still, his family circumstances might also have been owing to his changeable career. Picander's poetic talent is now considered negligible. In his own time, his writings were quite popular but also infamous for their very free language, as they did not recoil from erotic suggestiveness. Picander had a partiality for provokingly lascivious wording and had ''the most offensive and nasty things printed''. The council of Leipzig even confiscated several of his works. A biography from the 19th century relates that he tried to amuse rough minds with tasteless humor and coarse, indecent jokes, and that his poems contained many proverbial sayings of an often obscene nature. So some Bach scholars were troubled about the provable fact that Picander was on good terms with Bach. For example, Albert Schweitzer remarked in 1908: ''One wonders that the master should have been drawn to such an unmannerly and barely engaging man.'' Schweitzer did not object to the content of the Phoebus air, though.

From such opinions on his poetry, it does not appear very surprising that Picander should have chosen the sexual relationship between two males as subject of an aria, though he also could have let Apollo sing of one of his 42 female ''courtesans'' that are listed in Hederich's mythological encyclopedia.

The Case of Johann Rosenmüller

Maybe the Phoebus air has an actual historic background. About 75 years before its first performance, a scandalous incident shook the musical life of Leipzig. In 1655, the composer Johann Rosenmüller (c1619-1684), who had been designated choirmaster of the ''Thomaner'' by the council of Leipzig in 1653, was accused of sodomy with boys of the Thomas School. He had to flee to avoid punishment, presumably first to Hamburg, and then went to live in Venice, from which he did not return to Germany before 1682, when he became director of music at the court of Duke Anton Ulrich of Brunswick in Wolfenbüttel. Despite the moral accusations against him, Rosenmüller was already considered a musician of distinction by his contemporaries, and is now regarded as ranking with Buxtehude and Pachelbel among the foremost German composers between Schütz and Bach.

So the question arises whether Bach's homoerotic Phoebus air might be an allusion to the Rosenmüller scandal, a veiled protest against the unjust persecution of Rosenmüller. (The survival of Greek mythology in the Renaissance and the baroque period, and therefore also of the theme of ''homosexuality'', combated by Christianity, offered to authors and artists a possibility of at least indirectly expressing things that were socially tabooed.) This seems to be a daring hypothesis, but a close inspection of the circumstances allows the assumption that it is at least possible, even though, like so much else of Bach's life, it cannot be proved. Johann Rosenmüller is not mentioned in the remaining documents of Bach's life, but there is sufficient indication that Bach knew him and his life-story. For the cantata BWV 27 ''Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende'' (''Who knows how near my end is''), Bach adopted the choral movement for five voices ''Welt ade, ich bin dein müde'' (''World farewell, I am tired of thee'') from Rosenmüller. Bach probably took the movement from the hymnbook of Leipzig by Vopelius from 1682. It was quite unusual for Bach to adopt a foreign choral movement: only three choral movements are proved to be from other composers in his extensive cantata works. So the use of this choral most likely shows his great appreciation of the outlawed Rosenmüller. Already in Lüneburg, where Bach attended the Michaelis School from 1700 to 1702, he might have got to know music of Rosenmüller in the extensive musical library of the school. Also in Erfurt and Weimar there were quite large collections of Rosenmüller's works. In 1712 or 1713 Bach performed his ''Jagdkantate'' (''Hunting cantata'') at Weißenfels, where he had many relations and acquaintances, and where Johann Philipp Krieger was director of music between 1680 and 1725. Krieger had been a student of Rosenmüller in the 1670s in Venice. During his 45 years of work in Weißenfels, Krieger performed numerous compositions of Rosenmüller. In Leipzig itself there were also some works by Rosenmüller in the musical library of the Thomas School. In addition, Bach had personal connections with Wolfenbüttel, where Rosenmüller had once been director of music. Perhaps Bach, through his cousin and friend Johann Gottfried Walther, also had access to the musical library of Heinrich Bokemeyer at Wolfenbüttel, which contained over 100 works of Rosenmüller.

Johann Gottfried Walther explicitly mentions the accusations against Rosenmüller in his ''Encyclopedia of Music'' of 1732. Walther completed the editorial work on his encyclopedia provisionally in August 1729. Could Bach, who presumably collaborated on Walther's encyclopedia, have been prompted to write his Phoebus cantata in the autumn of 1729 by the article in the encyclopedia? Or did Bach plan to perform a work of Rosenmüller in Leipzig, but failed because of the opposition to the person of Rosenmüller? Doubtless the scandal of 75 years ago was still remembered by the citizens and the authorities of Leipzig. Even though the circumstances of its creation cannot be entirely elucidated, the air of Phoebus in Johann Sebastian Bach's cantata ''The Quarrel between Phoebus and Pan'' has remained up to now the most important treatment of a clearly homoerotic love affair in Western music.

(Translators' note: The copious notes to this essay, mostly referring to source material written in German, have not been translated. They may be looked up in the original, which is also available on the World History of Male Love site.)

William Hoffman wrote (July 5, 2008):
BWV 201 - More Fugitive Thoughts: Motive, Method, Opportunity

Stephen Benson wrote:
< posed some interesting question and observations re. performing conditions and the significance of this cantata. >
First of all, I'm spending a great deal of time trying to find a history of contemporary German drama per musica, especially through the operatic connection with the Leipzig-Dresden axis and the earlier efforts in Hamburg. There is also a history of coffee houses, social gatherings, and the beginnings of so-called "public" concerts. Much of this was subject to local conditions and I think varied greatly. Most of the accessible writings on the former issue of dramma per musica speak at length about opera in Dresden and Hamburg but pay only passing attention to this semi-opera. Don't forget, Handel also got caught in the dilemma of staged opera and static oratorio; just look at Sampson.

We can never know all the currents that converged at Zimmermann's in 1729 but what a serendipitous situation, I think, it must have been for everyone involved. I think Cantata 201, as Stephen has suggested, that "the all- encompassing late works of Bach -- the Art of Fugue, the Mass in B Minor (BWV 232), etc. -- (are) the final answer to the very questions posed in "The Contest between Phoebus and Pan." I also think that perhaps Cantata 201 was Bach's Declaration of Independence from authority to embrace new principles. We can all fill in the blanks on authority and new principles.

I have copied Douglas' submission and value the information, insights, and perspectives. I reserve judgement on some points while remembering the dictum that "History is a trick which the living play on the dead." And then there is the statement from my college freshman History of Civilization professor when asked to give HIS definition of history, he replied to 250 students in the lecture hall: "History is what I say it is."

Stephen Benson wrote (July 6, 2008):
Douglas Cowling wrote:
< Now here's a new take on Cantata 201: Picander as gay poet and the 1655 Rosenmüller sodomy scandal at the St. Thomas School! >
Thanks for this contribution and the reiteration of the Albrecht notes [14]. They really helped to end the week's discussion with a provocative twist!

Ed Myskowski wrote (July 6, 2008):
Doug Cowling wrote:
< Here are Albrecht's liner notes [14] for Bach's "opera". The imaginary description of the performance is intriguing. I like this comment:
"Let us put aside at this point all musicological knowledge and attempt to separate ourselves from our view of the spiritual Bach. Let us imagine the normal person, the worldly Johann Sebastian with his tendency towards sensuality, esprit and humour, and let our imagination run wild." >
Ed Myskowski replies:
I enjoyed both of Dougs closing posts, especially significant and appropriate given his professional platform. My chosen citation seemed like the most concise reference.

I am inspired to track down the Albrecht recording [14]. Until then, my preference of the two I have available is for Schreier [6] (included with the Brilliant Classics complete edition) over Koopman [11], to a large extent because of the continuo treatment with recitatives, noted by Neil H. I did not have an opportunity to listen to Rilling [12].

With the many other recordings available outside the mainstream, perhaps there are some nuggets hidden? Or not. Someone must have them, give us a clue.

Thanks to everyone who takes a moment to post, or even just read until the end. My eMail service remains erratic, but I will do my best to communicate whenever possible and meaningful (IMO).

Ed Myskowski wrote (July 6, 2008):
BWV 201

Frank Schrader
(translated by the editorial staff of the Androphile project), relayed by Doug Cowling:
>Mit Verlangen
Drück ich deine zarten Wangen,
Holder, schöner Hyazinth.
Und dein' Augen küss' ich gerne,
Weil sie meine Morgen-Sterne
Und der Seele Sonne sind.

(With longing
I press your tender cheeks,
Lovely, beautiful Hyacinth.
And I like to kiss your eyes,
Because they are my morning stars
And the sun of my soul.)

from Apollo, Hyakinthos and Kyparissos singing and playing (1831‹1834), by Alexander Ivanov - Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.
Apollo and Hyacinth
The Phoebus air is probably the first clearly homoerotic love air in musical history.< (end quote)
Ed Myskowski replies:
Clearly an abuse of the logical connector, <clearly>?

Cantata BWV 201: Complete Recordings | Recordings of Individual Movements | Discussions: Part 1 | Part 2

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Last update: ýAugust 2, 2008 ý23:38:07