With its forty-five chorale preludes, the Orgelbüchlein bears witness to a mastery of the art of improvisation on the organ, as the congregation heard it at the time before singing the hymn in its turn. It was a tempting experiment to revive this primary function: by collaborating with the combined forces of the Ensemble Vocal Bergamasque and the Maîtrise de Notre-Dame de Paris, Benjamin Alard gives the "little organ book" its full significance and expressive power. © harmonia mundi

Harmonia Mundi's Bach: Alio modo features esteemed period viol consort Fretwork performing keyboard works of Johann Sebastian Bach as adapted by group leader Richard Boothby. The idea of playing Bach on a viol consort would have been a little retro for the composer, who was a capable violinist himself and regularly led groups that were among the predecessors of modern orchestras. Bach's flowing contrapuntal lines lie well on these instruments, and in terms of getting his counterpoint across, this setting works, although a good organist or harpsichordist is perfectly capable of achieving the same end in this music. Not every listener can stand to listen to a recording of a pipe organ at home, as it reminds them of being in church, and others may share actress Joan Crawford's alleged disdain of the harpsichord. Perhaps this is the audience Fretwork is hoping to reach -- indeed, a listener afflicted with such inclinations would be missing out on some of Bach's finest musical utterances. The playing here is fabulous, as smooth as silk and perfectly in tune, although it's odd to hear a viol consort in music that is so "tonal," as much of the standard literature for viol consorts predates the regular establishment of keys, tending toward modality and therefore sounding harmonically thornier. Sometimes the purity of the tonality lends a harmonium-like "wheezing squeezebox" sound to the proceedings, and the lack of vibrato employed by Fretwork seems a little alien to Bach. Nevertheless, as a recording Bach: Alio modo is very easy on the ears; it is like a very still pool with ripples slowly radiating out from the center. And toward the end of the disc, two pieces from The Musical Offering are played, and as this openly scored work is well-established among ensembles of string players, we find ourselves nearing a somewhat familiar shore toward the end of the disc. Reviewing a disc such as Bach: Alio modo is potentially a hot potato; one doesn't want to damn it with too faint a praise, as it is a very fine recording. Should the public discover it, then Bach: Alio modo deserves to do well in the marketplace. Hard-core fans of J.S. Bach are probably not going to dig this one; to many of them it will fall somewhere in between the work of Ferruccio Busoni and the Windham Hill compilation The Bach Variations. Look for Fretwork's Bach: Alio modo to become a hot topic over the classical music water coolers of the world; perhaps one should not risk being left out of the conversation. © TiVo

Masaaki Suzuki's Bach organ recordings, something of a labor of love after the completion of his magisterial cantata cycle, have been well-received; this one landed on classical best-seller charts in early 2024. It is the second of a pair recorded on a 1737 organ at the Stiftskirche St. Georg in Grauhof, Lower Saxony, Germany. The builder was Christoph Treutmann, one of the greats of the age, and if it is not an organ Bach played, it is certainly one he would have regarded as state-of-the-art. Both this release and its predecessor, Vol. 4 in Suzuki's series, feature intricate chorale settings from the Orgelbüchlein, played on this organ and tied to the liturgical year; this volume features chorales for Easter (and the album was released just in time for that holiday) along with other settings and a few framing preludes and fugues. Suzuki on the organ is recognizably the same musician who led the Bach Collegium Japan on his famed cantata recordings; he is lofty, precise, and warm. The Treutmann organ is ideal for both the repertory and the performer; in many registrations it has an edgy, rather acid sound that clarifies Bach's complex polyphony beautifully. Also, sample the double setting of "Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier," with its contrasting textures. The BIS label's well-known engineering expertise is applied profitably to this small German church on a recording that one suspects Bach would have greatly admired.© James Manheim /TiVo

For the fourth time on the Phi label, Philippe Herreweghe presents three cantatas by Johann Sebastian Bach – Christ lag in Todesbanden, BWV 4, Gott der Herr ist Sonn und Schild, BWV 79, and Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott, BWV 80. Written at different moments in the composer’s life and based to a large extent on the works of Martin Luther, these cantatas reflect a marked taste for dramaturgy, vivid word painting and an invariably astonishing use of instruments and voices. Philippe Herreweghe and Collegium Vocale Gent give us an accomplished version of these masterpieces, confirming, if further proof were needed, their stature as ardent champions of Bach. © Outhere Music

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Sigiswald Kuijken's Bach cantata recordings, and in particular his complete series for Accent which culminated almost a decade ago now, haven't enjoyed quite the degree of international attention garnered by those of John Eliot Gardiner and Masaaki Suzuki with their own respective series, and this perhaps isn't completely surprising when Kuijken has consistently championed the one-voice-to-a-part approach. After all, even if one can get on board with one-to-a-part from a historical accuracy perspective, many find it a little harder to get on board with from a pleasure-listening angle, when the casualty of all that authenticity is textural variety – and indeed there's evidence that Bach himself was often frustrated by the slim vocal forces at his disposal. As ever, therefore, this three-strong, January-shaped return to the cantatas – for the third Sunday after Epiphany and the Sunday Septuagesima (the third Sunday before the start of Lent) - features one voice to a part, with La Petite Bande correspondingly chamber-forced. Also worth flagging up is that Kuijken has opted for a female rather than a male alto soloist. Inevitably therefore, the choruses lack the punch you'll hear from multi-voice offerings. However what you lose in weight, you gain in nimbleness, and the vocal performances here are all both enjoyable and text-aware. Likewise, the sound from La Petite Bande is sprightly, mostly attractive of tone, and with perhaps slightly less bite than heard from The English Baroque Soloists. The church acoustic meanwhile comes across with naturalness and a gentle bloom, and on the whole a good balance between parts, although the busy cello lines of BWV 92's Das Brausen von den rauhen Winden do rather cry out for a little more engineering love. If intimate, one-to-a-part Bach is of interest, this is certainly worth a listen. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

Georg Philipp Telemann never wrote a Christmas oratorio, but that hasn't stopped performers from assembling them out of holiday-season cantatas. The one here by veteran choral conductor Hermann Max and his instrumental group Das Kleine Konzert isn't the first one. It is not even the first one on the CPO label. There is no basis for objecting to this kind of creative repertory expansion, for Bach's Christmas Oratorio, BWV 248, was put together in basically the same way. Telemann isn't Bach, though most listeners will find satisfying listening here for the holiday season or any other time, and this album, in fact, made classical best-seller lists in early 2024. Max and company program five Telemann cantatas, unfailingly tuneful and well-made in the composer's characteristic way. One striking thing is that there are two quite late works from the 1750s and 1760s; the others are from earlier in Telemann's career, yet the style remains consistent. In some genres, Telemann caught on to the emerging light styles coming from Italy, but in church cantatas, he seems to have played it straighter. Max is not known as an adherent of the one-voice-per-part philosophy, yet here, his choruses are taken by the four soloists from his fine Rheinische Kantorei choir; there is no chorus. This is less than ideal. From what we know of Telemann's late occasional works, they were big, festive affairs. However, the decision was likely the result of COVID-era restrictions (the album was recorded in December of 2020), and in the airy acoustic of Cologne's Trinitatiskirche, one doesn't miss the choir much. Moreover, the choruses are mostly not simply chorales but are more complex polyphonic pieces; one quotes the old In dulci jubilo hymn, a pure Telemann move. The interpretations generally have Max's characteristic warmth, and the soloists (in the solos) are idiomatic and direct. Telemann lovers will enjoy this release.© James Manheim /TiVo

Maybe the combination of Brahms and Bruckner with the British choir Tenebrae sounds a little strange: the choir has specialized in Renaissance music and generally in music built on that sound ideal. Maybe the combination of the abstract, devout, and technically demanding Bruckner with the friendly and humanist Brahms sounds a little strange, too. But it all works out very nicely. In the 19th century, when choral music was a bigger part of everyday musical life than it is now, this would have been a program any good municipal choir would have loved to present. And Tenebrae bulks up its style a bit. They hit Bruckner's punishing high notes with the requisite perfect chill, and you can sample one of the large motets at the beginning, such as Ecce sacerdos (track three), for the full range of this choir's remarkable technical control under director Nigel Short. In Brahms pieces like the familiar "How lovely are thy dwellings" from the German Requiem, Op. 45 (track 11), the choir might even be called unusually weighty. Signum hits the ball out of the park sonically with engineering work at London's Temple Church, and the end result is a satisfying and unusual choral disc. A substantial donation from each copy of this album sold goes to Macmillan Cancer Support.© TiVo

With this set of 12 cantatas, a few of them quite short, Dutch historical-instrument conductor Ton Koopman approaches the end of his monumental traversal of the complete Bach cantata corpus. The cantatas here mostly date from the last two decades of Bach's life. By this time Bach had cantatas from earlier cycles ready for most occasions pertaining to the liturgical year. Several of the works here were written for special occasions -- weddings in at least two cases. The orchestration for the most part is large and varied, with several pieces including trumpets and tympani; the Cantata No. 195, "Dem Gerechten muß das Licht," BWV 195, features a dazzling array of strings, oboe, oboe d'amore, transverse flutes, horns, trumpets, bassoon, timpani, and continuo. The result is that these pieces play to the strengths of Koopman's interpretations: the warm, flawless blend of the Amsterdam Baroque Choir and the sharp differentiation of the instruments within what remains a big, festive sound overall. The famous cantata in this group is the Cantata No. 140, "Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme," BWV 140, with its "Sleepers Awake" chorale and its lovely variations on a pastoral theme. Sample the opening chorus (CD 2, track 1) for an idea of what you can expect in the various large choruses in the lesser-known cantatas in the set: each has its nice textural touches, and not a one gets lost in Koopman's expert interpretation. Hear the "Welt, ade, ich bin dein müde" (World, goodbye, I am tired of you) movement of the Cantata No. 158, "Der Friede sei mit dir," BWV 158, for an example of Koopman at his best: this odd combination of a bass aria with mantra-like interjections of the chorale from the choir's sopranos would throw a lesser conductor. The soloists in this set are also unusually effective. Soprano Sandrine Piau's voice is unhampered by the high pitch Koopman employs, and her soaring lyricism makes an effective foil for the unusual, rather English horn-like timbre of the alto of Bogna Bartosz. There is something a bit cool in Koopman's readings; for deep humanistic insights into Bach's music, the evolving cantata set by John Eliot Gardiner may be preferable. But in the public, festive music heard here, this lion of the historical-performance movement is hard to beat. © TiVo

The cantata Jesus nahm zu sich die Zwölfe (Jesus gathered the twelve to Himself) BWV 22, holds a historic place in Bach’s work. Indeed he composed it while still in Köthen, as an audition piece for the position of Thomaskantor in Leipzig, and then conducted it on February 7th, 1723, maybe even singing the bass part himself. Famously the city council, unable to convince its preferred composers – Telemann, Graupner and two others –, decided to settle with “mediocre” Bach… The gospel of the day first announces his death and his resurrection by Christ and his disciplines. A modest orchestra: voices, strings, one oboe and continuo, but the musical content is – like in almost all of Bach’s cantatas – amongst the best he’s ever written. For the same celebration, Bach composed a new cantata the following year, Herr Jesu Christ, wahr’ Mensch und Gott (Lord Jesus Christ, true Man and God) BWV 127. But it has almost nothing in common with the previous piece: here Bach offers a very impressive reflection on physical death. Throughout his cantatas he called for a blessed death to free himself from the vicissitudes of life on Earth, but this now reveals how much he may have feared physical death itself. The aria ”Die Seele ruht” is one of these sublime moments suspended in time, an ineffable tintinnabulum, in which the soprano and the oboe dialogue on a harrowing theme while the flutes and string pizzicatos symbolise the passing of time with incredible beauty. Finally it’s with Die Elenden sollen essen (The miserable shall eat) BWV 75 that Bach started off his work in Leipzig, in St. Nicholas Church this time, as the cantatas were alternately performed in both churches. Probably because he wanted to start with a bang, he designed this cantata on a huge scale: fourteen numbers, divided in two parts. Of course Bach would have never been able to produce such vast and powerful partitions on a weekly basis, but there is a real substance to this Passion… and it’s with great passion that Philippe Pierlot, his Ricercar Consort and the soloists perform these masterpieces. © SM/Qobuz

The great Masaaki Suzuki's traversal of Bach's keyboard music is well underway, and several attractions have become clear. In general, though, the interpretations are clearly characteristic of the musician who recorded all of Bach's cantatas; he is a bit less concerned with a pearly surface and a bit more with direct expression. In works for organ, he has shown a willingness to delve into period instruments, and the one here, the 1737 Christoph Treutmann organ of Stiftskirche St. Georg, Grauhof in Germany's Lower Saxony region, is a real find. It is an instrument that Bach might have played; at the very least, it is similar to the ones he knew, and it brings the organ music on this release alive. The instrument's occasional clanking noises do not detract from, and arguably even enhance, its remarkable variety of colors; the delicate stops here (try Vom Himmel kam der Engel Schaar) are glorious. Suzuki is willing to take a bit of time to bring out these colors; there is nothing too radical, but there are subtle adjustments to the tempo throughout that define the profile of each little ornamented chorale, and all the performances are vivid. Hear the swirly effects of In dulci jubilo, BWV 608. The pieces, except for an entr'acte prelude and fugue, are associated with the holiday season. This album was released in the summer of 2023; it may not have been intended as a Christmas album, but it would make a wonderful purchase at that time.© James Manheim /TiVo