Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists, Suzuki, St-Martin-in-the-Fields review – the perfect temperature for Bach

In the Saxony of 1725 – still in the grip of Europe’s “Little Ice Age” – Bach and his musicians would seldom have had to deal with the sort of midsummer sauna that enveloped Trafalgar Square last night. Yet, at St Martin-in-the-Fields, Masaaki Suzuki, the Monteverdi Choir and the English Baroque Soloists managed to beat the heat with an exhilarating shirt-sleeved journey through the cantatas that Bach wrote exactly three centuries ago for the Thomaskirche in Leipzig. 

Suzuki and his crew always looked cool but, excitingly, didn’t sound it. Here was choral and instrumental Bach performed not just with meticulous professionalism but a dash and verve that filled each movement with an infectious enthusiasm. In the past I have sometimes found Suzuki’s Bach immaculately tasteful and skilful but a trifle austere; at St Martin’s, in every musical corner, there was colour, vigour and variety to spare. On paper, this meeting of the giants, between the august founder of the Bach Collegium Japan and the world-leading period ensemble, had looked like a dream date. And so it proved: they clicked, and we had fun.

The programme spanned the year 1725, with four cantatas written for church occasions between February and December (BWV 1, 127, 103 and 28), along with the orchestral Sinfonia – in effect, a delightful wind concerto movement, stylishly executed – that opens number 42. Soloists Carolyn Sampson (pictured above), Rebecca Leggett, Guy Cutting and Matthias Winckhler stepped out from the 18-strong Monteverdi chorus for their arias and recitatives, while the English Baroque Soloists delivered one dazzling obbligato turn after another on period instruments that ranged from the soprano “flauto piccolo” recorder to (in 28) a formidable trio of sackbuts. At the harpsichord (sometimes standing, sometimes sitting), Suzuki led with a genial vigilance and a keen attention to detail that sustained pace and cohesion, but never cramped anyone’s style.

He coaxed from his forces a team performance in which every part shone, but none dominated. The cantata selection showcased some grand chorales, such as the exuberant invocation of the “morning star” in 1, or the interwoven voices of the motet in 28. In their authority, poise, precision and elegantly controlled dynamic range, the Monteverdi singers filled the church with their typically sumptuous sound. But the instrumentalists never, in any sense, played second fiddle to the choir. From the violin duo (leader Madeleine Easton, and Jorge Jiminez) who stood up to summon the morning star at the start, to the stirringly archaic tones of cornetto and sackbuts at the close, vocal and instrumental lines enriched each other’s roles. 

Indeed, at intervals, some brilliant interventions from the band almost stole the show. Easton’s violin; the supremely accomplished Mark Baigent’s oboe (especially in 127) and oboe da caccia (pictured above, Baigent with oboist Cait Walker and bassoonist Fergus Butt in the Sinfonia); Russell Gilmore’s trumpet; the horns of Lionel Pointet and Joseph Walters: all seized their moment and added dense splashes of colour to the entire sonic tapestry. 

However, it was the seemingly frail pair of recorders – Tabea Debus and Elizabeth Walker – who proved that small can be immensely beautiful. They hovered angelically above soprano and oboe in 127. And, in 103, Debus’s extraordinary “flauto piccolo” solo (pictured below) saw this fragile twig take on the monumental choir and somehow soar above and beyond it in acrobatic virtuosity and expressive range. It proved a highlight of the night. 

Among the vocal soloists, Carolyn Sampson gave lustrous, moving and perfectly balanced accounts of the great songs of faith and hope in 1, 127 and (above all) the cantata-like soliloquy that opens 28, "Gottlob! Nun geht das Jahr zu Ende". Deep and rich lower in her range, with a golden gleam on top, Sampson sounds distant from the “ecclesiastical” purity that once defined the vocal style of period Bach. But she consistently makes this music live, breathe, and move – as does tenor Guy Cutting, dramatically alert at every stage, full of emotional nuance in his recitatives, and impassioned (though not corny) in showpiece arias such as “Erholet sich” in 103. In that cantata, Rebecca Leggett’s alto brought refinement of tone and depth of feeling to her central aria, “Kein Arzt is ausser dir zu finden”, sensuously sculpting the key words (“sterben”; “Freude”) as the music moves in sinuous phrases from dark to light. Meanwhile, her New Year duet with Cutting in 28 (pictured below) had a fizzing charm and brio. 

Throughout, the polish and power of Matthias Winckhler’s bass built a solid foundation for the cantata narratives. In his ferocious evocation of the Last Judgment in 127 (“Wenn einstens die Posaunen schallen”), with the players around him (trumpet included) summoning doom, he thrilled, and chilled. That strikingly solemn passage varied the mood of an evening otherwise marked by warm, serene, and often joyful, music-making. Amid the heat, Suzuki and his company had found the perfect temperature for Bach. 

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