Friday's concert was a very big success, and without taking anything away from the fine orchestra and excellent solo singers, I must say that Bart's choir was astonishingly good. He has been working consistently with them for over ten years and the rewards of such sustained long-term effort is obvious. The other singers and orchestra soloists were very appreciative and encouraging, and Bart himself was very pleased, saying that I had sung an excellent first Matthew Passion, and had been worthy of my name-saint. It felt wonderful to have succeeded at something so challenging, that I have been anticipating for years and years, and that I have been working on consistently for more than a year.
I had a number of reflective moments during the performance... the one I wish to write about now happened after Pilate asks what should be done with Jesus; the people shout that he should be crucified, and Pilate asks, "Was hat er denn Übels getan? / What evil has he done?". There is a soprano recitative that explains that he did only good and kind things, never evil ones, and then there is a heartbreakingly beautiful, still aria with soprano, flute solo, and two Oboe da caccia, like a quiet chamber music meditation suddenly appearing in the midst of a thunderstorm. The text is:
Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben,
Out of love my saviour is willing to die,
Von einer Sünde weiß er nichts.
- Of any sin he knows nothing -
Dass das ewige Verderben
So that eternal ruin
Und die Strafe des Gerichts
And the punishment of judgement
Nicht auf meiner Seele bliebe.
May not remain upon my soul.
I sat there in the midst of perhaps one hundred people on the stage - the orchestra, the choirs, the other soloists - and other hundreds in the auditorium, all of us listening and curious to learn what the flute and soprano soloists, supported by the oboes, had to say about this moment of the story of sacrifice, suffering, love and redemption.
It came to me that there are very few public activities today that are so full of faith, trust, compassion and hope as performing a piece of music like the Matthew Passion. The conductor trusts that the orchestra and soloists have learned their parts properly prior to rehearsal, that they will be open to his suggestions, that they will be energized but not made anxious by the stress of performance. The choirs trust that the conductor's vision is one they will follow, and that he will cue them when needed and help them "let go" appropriately, yet maintain discipline where needed. The soprano soloist trusts the flautist to paint an emotional picture in the introduction that moves her to something authentic, perhaps newly discovered in the moment of performance, and the flautist trusts that the soprano will do the same for him. Everyone trusts the conductor to keep the whole thing together. Each person on that stage has their emotional antennae fully extended, and the gain is turned all the way up. The audience is hungry for this connection; they hope to discover this secret knowledge, this wordless knowing, and share in it also. It is this "opening up" that is so magical, and for me it is the closest thing to group telepathy that I think anyone can experience. For me you can talk all you want about teamwork in the context of sport, but for my money it pales in comparison to what is possible on the stage. As well you can debate points of theology all you like, but one cannot listen to such a marvellous construction as the St. Matthew Passion and remain unmoved: it is undoubtedly a miracle.
* * *
I was happy to have the day off to rest on Saturday. Sunday we had a big fall of snow, which complicated our trip to church in the morning, but we made it more or less on time. The Palm Sunday service was led by the young people of the congregation, extra musical and dramatic activities were included, and Malcolm gave the reading, which described the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.
Perhaps because of that special participation Julia gave us the flowers from the communion table to take home, and they are very lovely today.
Or perhaps it is because the St. Andrew's team swam the most lengths of any in the Lions Club charity Swim-marathon last week, and there were three participants from our family? In any case we were glad to receive them; tulips promise spring, a promise we need reiterated while our winter weather stubbornly continues.
Sunday afternoon I drove up to Antwerp to rehearse the recitatives and some of my arias in the absolutely freezing Sint-Pauluskerk, and then we had a dinner break before the general rehearsal. I went around the corner from the church and found a great little restaurant called De Zuilen, and there I defrosted myself with some warm freshly baked bread, a cup of Lady Grey tea and Antwerpse Vissoep, a really delicious fish soup that I think I will try to make myself sometime; it was that good.
If anything the church was even colder during the
generale, and there were scarves, winter coats, and gloves and hats on some of the singers. I don't actually think I could see my breath but it was a close thing; I really was horribly chilled, but singing helps warm you up and I didn't notice the cold temperature so much when I was involved in singing. It seems likely that Bach's choirs had the same problem with cold in the
Thomaskirke in Leipzig in the 1700s, so I suppose we will manage.
Singing these arias was also a little disconcerting at first because of the tuning change; I have never really noticed a big difference between "baroque" and "modern" pitch in performance, but then after so many times singing my parts with Le Concert d'Anvers at A=415 with original instruments, I found certain things strange with the modern orchestra a semi-tone higher. As well the winds are much louder in this orchestra, but I soon got used to it, and I think it will still be a good balance, and no one should have any trouble being heard.
What else to report? I was happy on Saturday to go pick up my new waistcoat and renovated morning suit from Bert Menzel. He did a really great job and I am very pleased with the result. I won't be able to wear it for the Passions, as they are evening concerts but I think Easter Sunday will be a nice occasion...
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