Bach: St John Passion
Academy of Ancient Music, Lawrence Cummings
Barbican Hall, 18 April 2025

Nicholas Mulroy, Evangelist, Dingle Yandell, Christus,
Carolyn Sampson, soprano, Helen Charlston, alto, Ed Lyon, tenor, Jonathan Brown, bass

Music has played a key role in religious occasions since the earliest times, and has played a notable role in most aspects of Western Christianity. When listening to pieces like the John or Matthew Passions or Messiah, I often wonder whether it is the words and the story, or the music that has the most highly charged emotional effect on those listening. For Christians, 3pm on Good Friday is one of the most sacred times of the year: according to one of the gospels, the moment when Jesus died after a three-hour-long crucifixion. In many Christian traditions, the whole day is devoted to fasting. But, for around 2000 people, 3pm was the start of the Academy of Ancient Music’s performance of Bach’s St John Passion in a packed Barbican Hall.

Unlike the Matthew Passion, which remains more or less as composed, the John Passion went through several revisions, the final 1749 version being far closer to the 1725 original than any of the other versions. It is the one generally used now, although the distinctive pair of violas d’amore in the bass Arioso Betrachte, meine Seel and the tenor Aria Erwäge, wie sein blutgefärbter Rücken, which Bach replaced with muted violins in 1749, are usually retained, as in this performance. It seems likely that Bach never heard this version.

This was a particularly powerful performance, with an emphasis on the emotional power of Bach’s music. This was apparent from the start, the players and singers informally wandering onto the vast Barbican stage to gather in a tight central group. Lawrence Cummings, directing from the harpsichord, was on stage for at least five minutes before the start time. There was clearly to be no applause at the start. The Evangelist and Christus were seated at the front, the soloists sitting within the orchestra, seated around the organ.

For me, the opening bars of the opening Herr, unser Herrscher set the scene for the mood of the whole piece. The well-judged contrast between the dissonances of the two oboes (doubled by flutes), the turbulent violin sixteenth notes and the unsettlingly threatening pulse of the continuo created a mood of anguished suspense and menace. Nicholas Mulroy’s first utterance as the Evangelist demonstrated his depth of understanding of the emotional undercurrent of the text, something that continued throughout, notably in the most dramatic moments such as the “weinete bitterlich” moment as Peter wept bitterly. Dingle Yandell’s portrayal of Christus as a strong and imposing figure never reduced the complex emotions of a man being sent to his death by his own father.

The four other vocal soloists have a fascinating role in the St John Passion. Who are they representing? For example, to what extent is the tenor aria Ach, mein sinn being sung by Peter or by the bystander who voices their concern for the outcomes of their own misgivings in the following chorale, Petrus, der nicht denkt zurück, the concluding aria of Part One? The link between the two pairs of arias from the soprano and alto soloists was particularly noticeable in this performance. The initial pair contrasted the self-confident proclamation of faith, beautifully revealed by alto Helen Charlston’s assured voice, with the youthful and seemingly naive hero-worship expressed supurbly by soprano Carolyn Sampson. They also appear in a pair of arias at the end of the Passion, Helen Charlston with the key Es ist vollbracht, and Carolyn Sampson with the last aria of the Passion, the lament Zerfließe, mein Herze, as she tells the world that “Jesus is dead”. Both outstanding performances. It was particularly unfortunate that at the pivotal moment at the end of Es is vollbracht!, when there is traditionally a short moment of complete silence (not indicated by Bach), it was filled with a loud cough from a member of the audience.

The orchestral forces were slightly larger than those that Bach would recognise, with ten violins, three violas, two cellos, and one bass. The continuo group was Kristina Watt, theorbo (taking a prominent role in the bass Arioso Betrachte, meine Seel, where she played the melodic continuo line usually taken by the organ, Reiko Ichise, notably performing the heartwrenching Viola da Gamba solo in Es ist vollbracht, Alistair Ross, organ, adding a few well-chosen twiddles reflecting some key words, and of course, Laurence Cummings, directing from the central harpsichord. Key instrumental moments came from Bojan Cicic and Persephone Gibbs playing the yearning Violas d’amore, Sarah McMahon as continuo cello and soloist in the bass aria Mein teurer Heilandm, and bass player Timothy Amherst for his continuo support.

The 21-strong choir was also larger than Bach’s original intended, but the performing and audience space in the Barbican Hall is about as far as you can get from the Nicholaskirche in Leipzig or the Thomaskirche where it was originally intended to be performed. Both, incidentally, look very different nowadays than in Bach’s time, notably the Nicholaskirche. And, of course, in both churches, the orchestra and singers would have been behind the listeners, on the organ gallery, adding to the meditative nature of the 1724 Good Friday Vespers. The choir were in a mixed format which, although it loses the focus some of the individual polyphonic lines, gives a much better sense of consort. Their chorales were impressive, as were their turbo chorus, directed with admirable intensity by Laurence Cummins.

Reverting to my initial pondering about the “highly charged emotional effect on those listening” and the role of music in religious contexts, I remain wondering about whether the charismatic style of evangelical Christian services brings people closer to their God as listening to Bach. But whether the Barbican audience for the outstanding Academy of Ancient Music came to worship their God or Bach, or even Laurence Cummings, I doubt any of them failed to be profoundly moved by this performance.