It would be a mistake, however, to assume that the 20-plus early-music recordings demonstrate a monolithic new orthodoxy about how Bach should sound. True, the recordings differ from their predecessors in some common ways, notably the smaller size of the ensembles, faster tempos in certain movements, and the un-Wagnerian style of the singers. But the recordings show more variety than critics sometimes assume. The variety results at least in part from disagreements over how Bach would have performed the Mass. On top of that, even when the historical evidence is clear, performers differ over how, and to what degree, an artist should use it.
This article will not give a history or analysis of the work—excellent ones are readily available in books and on the World Wide Web (see insert, For further reading). Instead, it will look at some of the specific problems a performer of the Mass must grapple with.
Tortoise and Hare
Half a century ago the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham, at the beginning of a ballet rehearsal, looked over at the dancers and asked, “What shall it be today? Too fast or too slow?”
Some critics might apply the question to tempo fashions in Bach’s choral music. The pendulum in this repertory has swung from the tortoise-like Otto Klemperer to the hare-like Frans Brüggen, and while these maestros represent the extremes, they personify a trend. The fastest of the mainstream B Minor Mass recordings, that of Sir Georg Solti, is on average slower than the slowest of the HIP recordings, that of Gustav Leonhardt.
Are the faster HIP tempos closer to Bach’s own, or do they reflect nothing more than a change in taste? Or are they a reaction against the monumentality of some of the previous interpretations?
Some people have argued that using period instruments and smaller choruses naturally gives rise to faster speeds. A survey of recordings suggests otherwise. Leonhardt takes the Credo chorus as slowly as Klemperer, René Jacobs takes it even more slowly, and Thomas Hengelbrock unfolds the first Kyrie at ♪ = 44, slightly slower than Karajan. Conversely, huge modern choruses and orchestras don’t necessarily put a brake on fast tempos. In Vivace choruses like the “Cum sancto spiritu” and “Et expecto,” Solti and Karajan run neck and neck with the period-instrument group. Instruments and ensemble size, then, tell us little about Bach’s tempos.
How about period treatises on music making? Alas, tempo is hard to specify in words—just how fast is “fast”? Such difficulties add to another limitation of treatises: that they are written for beginners, and are not meant to capture the quirks of a master like Bach. Still, we can learn a great deal from a thorough survey of the literature.
One principle that emerges is that the time signature a German Baroque composer chose—3/2 versus 3/8, and so on—conveyed central information about tempo. Studying German texts from Bach’s era, and examining his scores, can yield at least some insight into the tempos implied by his time signatures.
To apply this principle to the B Minor Mass, consider the Sanctus. A recent study by the Bach authority Robert Marshall suggests that when Bach notated a piece in common time (4/4) with triplets, as he did in the Sanctus, he was implying a tempo on the fast side. Bach could have notated the chorus in 12/8 instead, but Marshall believes that in such instances the 12/8 signature would have implied a slower speed. Moreover, an earlier version of the Sanctus is notated mostly in ¢, indicating an even faster tempo. If these conjectures are right (and Marshall makes it clear that he is trying to open discussion, not close it), conductors who have taken this chorus at a quick pace—Harnoncourt, Rifkin, Brüggen, Thomas, and Christophers—have more historical support than those who take it slowly. The slower group includes many of their HIP colleagues, particularly Koopman and Gardiner, their reputations for speed notwithstanding.
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