Bach: St John Passion (Concert Review - The Observer, 2001)

St John v St Matthew

The stern clarity of Bach's St John Passion makes it as compelling as any straight theatre. The subject matter may be inherently dramatic, but Bach's complete emotional and empathetic identification with the narrative raises it to new levels of intensity. Compact and sharply etched, oscillating from dark turbulence to radiant serenity, this 1723 setting of St John's Gospel has none of the spacious grandeur of his later St Matthew Passion . Therein lies its strength. No wonder Deborah Warner was persuaded to stage it last year at the Coliseum. That experiment, while not quite convincing in an opera house, renewed our sense of the human drama as well as the devotional purpose in the shorter, and until recently less popular, of Bach's two surviving passion settings.

This year, Polyphony and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment gave a brilliant, supple concert performance conducted by Stephen Layton. It is hard to imagine it done better. They made a strong case for this being the greater work of the pair, as futile a thought to pursue as stating a preference for gold above silver, grass over sky. Yet the power of a great performance is that it banishes in the listener's mind for that moment all possibility of competitive events. The account was not immaculate. Supporting soloists, with the shining exception of the countertenor Robin Blaze, did not seem at ease in their arias, as if they would actually have preferred an opera house to a church-cum-concert hall. But as the Evangelist, James Gilchrist gave one of the most moving and intelligent performances you could want: pure-voiced, expressive, modest and urgent, meticulous but never fussy. Michael George was an ardent and dignified Christus.

In Polyphony, the small, expert choir which Layton formed in 1986, every voice counts. The fewer the number, the more audible any flaw. There were none. Each chorale had its own distinct character. The choruses were immediate and powerful, the whispered interjections of ' Wohin ?' ('Where?') magically certain in their uncertainty. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, too, played with springy precision, whether in ensemble or in the numerous solo passages. Special mention must be made of the continuo players. Their constant, partly improvised bass line requires special skill and sensitivity, here shown in abundance. At key moments, such as after the Crucifixion, Daniel Yeaden's cello playing had the eloquence of hoarse despair. Organist Gary Cooper's arpeggios and flourishes shaped the music with rigour and subtlety, as if with a wash of colour rather than the full bright pigment preferred by some continuo keyboard players.

Fiona Maddocks