The fashion for “single-voice” Bach Passions has happily shifted from prescriptive theorising on contemporary practice to rhetorical impact for the “here and now”. Much of this triggered John Butt’s captivating and often emotionally raw reading of the St Matthew for Linn in 2006. Jos van Veldhoven adopts a similarly character-driven flexibility in his wieldy vocal and instrumental ensemble, most notably emphasising the enhanced narrative responsibility of Choir 1. Yet wrong-footing the traditional symmetry between the double choirs and orchestras is hardly a deal-breaker in the evolution of a powerful, dramatic St Matthew which depends on an elusive relationship between so many complex and inter-reliant elements.

This live recording is tellingly paced and seriously considered, as you would expect from Veldhoven. The over-riding sensibility is one stripped of vanity and yet of astute and purposeful coloration, often through startling projection, compelling dynamic control and even rappresentativo-style singing (Julian Podger’s potent “O Schmerz” and “Geduld” are not always pretty but, goodness, you feel the pain and joy).

For a work which makes so many musical and technical demands, the live context should perhaps encourage fewer and more allowances respectively: the inexorable path towards Christ’s death and journey of fear, anticipation and resignation is deeply felt here. Yet so refined, rich and intense is the surround-sound experience from Channel Classics that infelicities of vocal production and intonation can startle more than in most recordings – notably internal voicing in the “choruses” and variable soloists from a director who can never quite assemble his dream team.

Gerd Türk’s Evangelist, as with Peter Harvey’s Christus, takes time to warm up (and Türk is no longer as honeyed in the upper reaches as he once was) but these develop into highly accomplished performances; Türk is a subtle and excitable commentator, in whom tensions between pure reportage and discipleship are creatively harnessed. Harvey becomes the master of all he surveys and the string accompaniments are exquisitely judged, as are the juxtapositions between these contributions and the crowd’s interjections.

Too many set-piece arias are underwhelming, however. The problem is not simply one of vocal inconsistency but Veldhoven’s priority for imposing a text-oriented, almost 17th-century aesthetic on the St Matthew at the expense of abstract beauty. “So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen”, a duet of such breathtaking radiance, is so tonally unyielding and short of mystery that I was running back to Fritz Lehmann from 60 years ago. “Erbarme dich”, alas, falls into the same trap. Bass Sebastian Noack does something to redress the balance with a vibrant and cultivated contribution.

Veldhoven’s first recording of the St Matthew from 1997 (5/98) is rather more rooted and affecting than this sophisticated, incisive and emotionally graphic account. But the advantage here is a supreme recorded sound which places the listener in the solar plexus of Bach’s peerless score.