Bach's Early Masses with The Thirteen's Matthew Robertson

In the 1730s Johann Sebastian Bach wrote five settings of the Kyrie and Gloria of the traditional Latin Mass. The first, richly scored and lavish in conception, would later, in the final years of the composer's life, be expanded into what we now know as the Mass in B minor. The other four would become known as the "Lutheran" or "Short" Masses. They are each scored for a small orchestra with a four-part chorus and are about 25-30 minutes in length. Despite their more modest dimensions, they are of a piece with the B minor in their use of this universal text as a canvas in which to explore a variety of colors and styles. While we don't know exactly what prompted Bach to write these works, it's likely they would have been performed in the churches for which he directed the music alongside his cantatas. (Contrary to popular belief, the Lutheran Church was not opposed to incorporating musical settings of Latin texts into its services, and in fact one of his first works for Leipzig was the original "Christmas" version of his Magnificat.)  

Local audiences have a rare opportunity to hear live performances of three of Bach's masses in the space of a few weeks, since The Thirteen, under the direction of Matthew Robertson, will be performing two of the Lutheran Masses March 13-15 (they performed the other two last season), while the Washington Bach Consort, conducted by Dana Marsh, will be performing the Mass in B minor April 25 and 26. I had the honor of speaking to both conductors about these programs - and two others as well, since, in yet another coincidence, both ensembles' other major spring programs focus on Monteverdi. (Watch this space!) Here are Maestro Robertson's thoughts about The Thirteen's upcoming all-Bach program of two masses and two concertos, and be sure to listen to our illuminating interview as well.

Conductor's Notes from Matthew Robertson

1685 was an eventful year. King Louis XIV revoked the 1598 Edict of Nantes, which had granted a measure of religious tolerance and civil rights to French Protestants. The revocation effectively forbade Protestantism in France and inspired Voltaire to argue for religious tolerance. The same year, the Catholic James II of England ascended to the English throne, only to be overthrown in the “Glorious Revolution” of 1688–89. The revolution sharply limited monarchical power and inspired John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government which articulated a new understanding of government’s role. Isaac Newton was hard at work on his Principia Mathematica, which, when published in 1687, furthered empirical inquiry and mathematical reason. And, in the forests of Thuringia, Maria Lämmerhirt, wife of Johann Ambrosius Bach, gave birth to her eighth and final child: Johann Sebastian Bach.

Author Charles King corrects our understanding of the period known as “The Enlightenment,” suggesting that for those living through it, it was not a sudden shift, but rather a gradual enlightening. In Bach’s time, disease remained endemic. Childhood mortality exceeded fifty percent (Bach himself would lose ten of his twenty children). Orphans begged and criminals were executed in public view. Conflict among European states was still common. It was into this unsettled world and at the beginning of a long, uneven enlightening that Bach (for today, he needs no first name) was born.

Was Bach a protagonist of the Enlightenment? The popular perception of the composer would not suggest so. He was theological and doctrinal, carefully studying and annotating his Bible. At times, he employed musical forms and instruments that were already anachronistic. His works are often praised more for synthesis than for invention. And, in our popular imagination, he is the dour and scolding scolding Thomaskantor, a stern carpenter of sacred music.

Yet this portrait misses the point. The enlightening was not a rejection of tradition but rather a growing confidence that reason and experience could make lives better. Bach’s art contributed to this confidence. A believer, yes—but also an empirical thinker unafraid to inscribe the then-heretical sentence in his Bible: “Where there is devotional music, God with His grace is always present.” His use of anachronistic instruments and forms is not antiquarian, but rather an alchemical study of the combination of beauty and form. If the enlightening sought to reconcile reason and feeling, Bach’s musical language accomplishes that synthesis in sound. Ultimately, for this musician, it is his musical language itself that paints a truer portrait of a vibrant and sincere man. This is the Bach that we musicians know.

For our upcoming program, Bach: The Early Masses II, his Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 opens with irrepressible vitality. Its famous harpsichord cadenza reimagines the form, elevating an accompanying instrument into something boldly virtuosic and new. The Mass in A Major reveals another side of Bach’s craft: elegance shaped by French gesture. After intermission, the Concerto for Two Violins in D Minor unfolds as a study in joyful conversation. We conclude with the Mass in G Minor, a work in the north German style both expressive and monumental.

I am deeply grateful to the artists who give this music life: harpsichordist Adam Pearl; our concertmaster, Adriane Post; violinist Mandy Wolman; flutist David Ross; and, of course, our spectacular choir and period orchestra. Performing for a live audience is my favorite thing to do, and I’m delighted to share how I hear this music with our audiences. I hope that they find our portrait of Bach to be sparkling with intellect and warmth, joy and feeling.