Dunedin: St Matthew Passion
RSNO Centre, Glasgow
Through a quirk of bad 18th century business acumen and the consequent cessation of dedicated provision, the people of Leipzig, in Bach’s day, were effectively starved of opera. Or were they? Saturday’s slick, riveting, often animated performance of Bach’s St Matthew Passion by the Dunedin Consort presented a strong case for the argument that what was missing from the opera house in the mercantile Thuringian city’s musical life was more than made up for by an inherently theatrical church music tradition.
Of course, it could never have been so obviously demonstrative. They were Lutherans after all. The theatricality was channelled through the music: in the Matthew Passion’s case a vivid dramatisation of the Easter story “pictorialised” by the visual interplay of double chorus, double orchestra and dramatis personae from within, and a sequence of fast-flowing narrative, choral commentary, rapt show-stopping arias and those reassuringly familiar (to German churchgoers) Chorales, knitted together as dynamic story-telling.
It’s been a mark of John Butt’s pugnacious directorship of the internationally acclaimed Dunedin Consort that such historically-informed performances as this – fully-mastered period instrument playing, a down-scaled concentration on the vocal contingent (one-to-a-part), smart but pliable tempi – say so much that is powerful, refreshing and revelatory about works many of us grew up with in less-informed times.
If a hint of caution tempered the opening chorus, the fact it quickly dissipated suggested a necessary acclimatisation to the needle-sharp acoustics of the RSNO’s New Auditorium. Thereafter a thoroughly streamlined affair ensued, not just by the aforementioned forces, but including too, in key choruses, a clarion-like treble phalanx of the RSNO Youth Choir. This particular performance – the other two over the weekend were in Edinburgh and Perth – formed part of the Dunedin’s programming partnership with the RSNO.
At floor level, the stereophonic symmetry of the adult choruses and orchestras was an invigorating sight as well as sound, its rigid geometry offset by the itinerant to-ing and fro-ing of the eight singers as they exercised their dual roles as soloists and ripieno. It was that sense of role-playing, where spotlit action gave rise to third-party reaction, that fuelled our constant fascination as observers.
From tenor Hugo Hymas’ heroic omnipresence as the narrating Evangelist (not to mention the stamina required for his additional arias) and Ashley Riches’ magisterial Christus, to the multifarious contributions of countertenor James Hall (wretchedly wholesome in his opening aria), the lyrical fluidity of Frederick Long’s bass-baritone, and Joanne Lunn’s rapturous soprano among others, the switches from homogenous chorus members to personalised characters were seamlessly achieved.
Similarly, obbligato instrumentalists rising from their seats to partner solo arias did so with a stage presence that matched their virtuosity. Foremost were leader Huw Daniel’s heart-stopping solo violin (from memory) in Erbarme dich, the snaking oboe da caccias of Alexandra Bellamy and Oonagh Lee, and Jonathan Manson’s nimble expressiveness on viola da gamba.
With such instinctive expertise to hand, Butt’s role – besides his active contribution to the organ continuo – may have seemed essentially gestural at times, but that would be to downplay the vital response and emotional intensity he elicited from his top-notch team. It may not be opera, but close your eyes and this St Matthew Passion was a theatre of the imagination.
Ken Walton