Volume 5 from Ton Koopman is the last of the cantatas before he dedicates the next few years of his life to recording the Leipzig sacred cycles. The gradual chronological progression of the series is still broadly followed in the secular cantatas (if not strictly within the complete project). This collection of seven significant works takes us up to 1742 and the Peasant Cantata, Bach’s last surviving work of its type. To generalize on Koopman’s achievement thus far would be an invidious process given the variable nature of the performances. Ranging from inspired vigour to rhetorical flatness, in sacred and secular works alike, this latest volume is perhaps the most indicative of Koopman’s recent Bach exploits that one will find, realized in a programme of lavishly scored pieces alongside intimate perennials such as the Wedding Cantata.
For sheer bravura, and an increasingly corporate elan between voices and instruments, the Amsterdam forces are, if not exactly breaking new ground, beginning to consolidate on a distinctive timbre and style. This is apparent in the opening chorus of No. 207a, a brilliantly refurbished version of the third movement of Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 delivered with memorable colour and gusto. Dedicated, as is No. 206, to August III, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, this was opulently scored for outdoor use by Collegium Musicum in the garden of Zimmermann’s Coffee House. Whilst some may prefer Frieder Bernius’s eloquent coupling for its meticulous attention to words and meaning, Koopman’s measured dignity achieves a finer degree of contrast in the undulating imagery of river waves (heralding an allegorical personification of four main rivers) in No. 206. The same qualities are evident in No. 205, Zerreisset (better known as “Aeolus Pacified”), a 40-minute mythological drama where Aeolus is persuaded to assuage the winds (represented in the full orchestral fury of trumpets, horns and complete woodwind) against his better instincts. Koopman ranks highly here beside the frantic immediacy of Jacobs and the unhurried ‘couture’ of Leonhardt.
As with all of Koopman’s previous cantata releases, solo contributions are a mixed bag and, in certain quarters, a recurring Achilles’ heel. With the exceptionally sensitive and soft-grained Klaus Mertens, Koopman has undoubtedly found a gem. He is entrancing in the first bass aria of No. 205, “Wie will ich lustig”, even if he occasionally forces the sound when up against the full battery of brass in “Zurucke”, later on in the same piece. Mertens is satisfyingly complemented by Christoph Pregardien, a seasoned Bachian whose flamboyance in an array of technical tours de force, such as “Augustus’ Namenstages” from No. 207a and “Auf meinen Flugeln” (No. 213), displays true vocal authority. Lisa Larsson is the pick of the sopranos and she has the awesome responsibility of No. 202, the beguiling Wedding Cantata and No. 210, O holder Tag. Clean, reliable and honestly imparted, Larsson’s singing may seem to be something of an artistic compromise, keeping happy both those who favour a boy-like sound and those who demand technical security at all costs. Actually, she compares favourably with many in No. 202 (she tends to lose focus in the lower register) but displays little of the reflective lyricism or shimmering fervour of Dorothea Roschmann in the radiant No. 210. The problem extends more notably to other singers whom Koopman appears to regard as quasi-instrumentalists, whose abstract executancy is prized above acute textual representation. Anne Grimm, sweet and accurate in No. 213 (a work largely drawn from Part 4 of the Christmas Oratorio), will find friends (as will Sibylla Rubens who teams up delightfully with Mertens in the Duetto of No. 207a) for her inoffensive and neutral vocabulary; what may constitute interpretative limitations for some may be manna for others. In the case of Elisabeth von Magnus, consistently approximate intonation is not so negotiable.
In summary, much of this set is thrilling and intermittently very beautiful (Mer hahn en neue Oberkeet, the Peasant Cantata, is charmingly characterized), though the problem of inconsistency in the female vocal department is likely to become ever more critical in Bach’s emotionally demanding sacred cycles. Mention should be made of the poetic oboe and flute playing from Marcel Ponseele and Wilbert Hazelzet respectively. The solo string obbligatos are generally less persuasive though the string body as a whole provides both a tender commentary in No. 202 and dazzling virtuosity in the framing movements of the larger works. Collectors, incidentally, may be disappointed to read Christoph Wolff’s scanty notes. For such an important project, one can legitimately expect more from this distinguished scholar than dry historical facts unadorned by the sort of enlightening musical observation of which we know he is capable.'