Chapter 19 BWV 95 Christus, der ist mein Leben Christ is my life.

Chorus--recit (sop)--chorale (sop)--recit (tenor)--aria (tenor)--recit (bass)--chorale.

The eighteenth cantata of the cycle for the sixteenth Sunday after Trinity.

NB The macro-structure of this work may be viewed as three musical ‘blocks’ ending with the bass recitative and closing chorale (see also C 138, chapter 18).

Block 1: chorus/recit/chorus. Block 2: recit/chorale. Block 3: recit/aria.

Did Bach get the bit between his teeth with C 138 from the previous week? Did his innovative experimentation with the integration of recitative, chorale and chorus into the one structure tempt him to travel even further down the road of experimental formats? It would seem so because the chorus that begins this week’s cantata is so forward-thinking, particularly in terms of its rhythmic organisation, as to stand right outside of contemporary practice.

The similarities between the overall shape of this work and that of C 138 are many and cannot have been accidental. In the previous chapter it was suggested that Bach saw C 138 as an edifice of three vast musical slabs, the first two of which amalgamated recitative and chorus, the third recitative and aria. One further short, freestanding recitative and plain chorale setting formed the coda.

In C 95 the blueprint is very much the same: an opening movement combining chorus recitative and chorale, a conjoined recitative and chorale is followed by a similarly abutting recitative and aria. A final recitative and closing chorale act as a coda. There are minor deviations from C 138 in that there is no chorus in the second block, both recitative and chorale being carried by the soprano. Furthermore, instead of basing successive movements on the same chorale melody as in C 138, Bach chose three different ones, each of which is quoted in full (in the first and second blocks and at the end).

And yet for all its novel inventiveness this cantata begins so disarmingly, disguising its maverick intentions with a seemingly innocent engagement of the most disingenuous of motives between oboes and upper strings. The 6/8 time signature, the little ‘lifts’ of the syncopated rhythms, the charming ‘knockabout’ between wind and strings and the rising violin scales all contribute to the feeling of innocent pleasure. After all, the librettist has begun with a wholly positive mantra, one which may have come of something of a relief to congregations that had become saturated with presentations of sin and doom----Christ is my life and gladly I accept my reward of death and surrender to him. The immediate impression one has with the choir’s first homophonic entry is that of a chorale fantasia of the type which was to engage Bach so fully during the composition of the second cycle, but again we are misled. The sustained dissonances of Sterben----death---- and the following hiatus tell us that this is not a clear-cut fantasia; this musical picture is powerful and it contrasts bleakly with what has gone before. Might it be a relatively rare example of Bach’s painting the individual image at the expense of the essential message? A reminder to the brethren perhaps, that death is a reward and a consummation to be wished for, if the poet is to be believed! However, this gloomy depiction is but momentary and the lilting ritornello theme resumes, encompassing the next two chorale lines and leading us to the tenor solo with his inserted lines of text. To the accompaniment of the original musical motive, still exchanged between string and woodwind, he stresses the joy of departure with melismas on both words, but very quickly (from bar 74) the mood changes. Technically, it is an alternation of 2/2 (or 2/4) and 3/4 bars i.e. two beats thence three to the bar! This is allied to movement through keys quite remote from the original G major e.g. Bb major and Cm. It is as if the cold hand of death has touched the brow as the inserted lines convey the message----if I were to be told today that I need return my wretched body and limbs to the earth and throw off this mantle of mortality----then my requiem is ready and I would sing it now.

But why is death painted in such miserable terms if it is the gateway to eternal bliss? Is Bach being uncharacteristically simplistic? A little deeper examination of this passage may reveal more of his great subtlety.

The point of the 3/4 bars is that they allow the placement of the originally jovial motive to be placed between most of the singer’s lines. The singer is articulating the conventional and natural fear of death but the symbols of joyous expectation hover all around. Their (musical) forms may alter but they remain recognisable, acting as a reminder that the terror of demise is not necessarily valid in a world where Christ has provided a means of salvation.

Bach’s immense subtlety when setting this piece of text also makes sense, albeit in retrospect, of the momentary freezing of the blood on the word Sterben earlier in the movement.

The earthbound four-in-a-bar articulations by the bass provide Bach with another opportunity to make a discreet musical point. The final section of the chorus (from bar 89) is indeed in that time and in the minor mode. Bach has adopted them to set the last lines of the chorale text----I now depart peacefully and am consoled as He has promised---death has become my sleep. The mood is forceful and affirmative, a solo horn and striding quaver continuo bass indicative of both positivity of attitude and decisive action. The choir sings the last lines of the original chorale verse, pre-empted by horn and oboes. The only interruption to this almost unstoppable impetus is, in itself, wholly assuring; a beautiful representation of that calm and peace of which we are now confident (bars 119-121).

This is a movement of great originality, imagination and technical innovation which, it must be suspected, was conceived alongside the experiments of the previous week.

In one sense there should be little to add to this particular Sunday’s theme after that complete operatic scena. But the remorselessness of C18 Lutheranism does not work that way; points made have to be remade and even then reinforced. The rest of the cantata is a rejection of this world and a craving for death. Doubt has been dispelled and faith is unassailable.

The soprano recitative is a forthright rejection of this world and its temptations (Sodom’s apples!). Its mood is affirmative, even perhaps oratorical and it bears us gently from the minor mode of the previous movement to the major of the next with which it is undoubtedly united.

With mode now major and a rhythm of three beats to the bar, the soprano intones the second chorale, almost completely unembellished, a melody that would have been extremely familiar to Bach’s congregations. The text is calm, simple and dignified----I leave this evil world which pleases me no more----it is good to reside in heaven where God rewards His servants. The vocal line sustains the sense of calm and tranquillity but this is not quite what we detect in the other two parts. Both continuo and oboe d’amore obligato are rhythmically disjointed. The rests in the former contrast with the certainty of the quaver bass which ended the opening movement. The tone colour, enticing suspensions and sinewy movements of the latter all paint a picture of temptation and perhaps even the slithering of the serpent of Eden. Nevertheless, in the midst of hesitation and enticement, the soul (soprano) remains tranquil, certain and steadfast.

The tenor recitative is short and blunt, a simple plea for death to arrive swiftly and end all suffering and anguish. It has a moment of genuine pathos at the thought of the ending of personal distress (bars 3-4). Its final (dominant) chord of A leads us directly into the aria with which it is paired.

The tenor aria is a masterpiece of musical invention second only to the inspired opening chorus. It calls upon the final hour to strike and end all distress----every moment is counted until it envelops us. It is impossible to avoid comparisons with C 8, When Oh Lord shall I Die, composed a year later, also written for this eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. There too are the persistent pizzicato strings, the suggesting of the death bell and the urgent ticking of the inescapable passing of time. Both employ major modes, now sounding at their most subdued and enigmatic, made melancholic by the frequent incursions of minor notes and harmonies. The similarities are surely too great not to suggest that Bach looked back over the score of C 95 when planning the composition of C 8.

The oboes declaim a flowing and peaceful four-square melody above staccato strings operating in different rhythms: the continuo has crotchets against the viola/violin 2 quavers and first violin semiquavers. The effect is magical. The second oboe completes its phrases with a little echo of a sob, reminiscent of the very first chorus Bach presented at Leipzig from C 75. Sustained woodwind notes elicit pathos from the minor harmonies (first heard in bars 13-14.)

It is perhaps the energy and aggression of the vocal line that initially surprises the listener and subsequently drives the music forward. The calls for the hour to strike and for death to approach are urgent and imperative. Once committed to faith and its path to salvation, death is not feared but urgently sought. The energy of this line makes it seem more a commandment than an entreaty.

There are numerous moments of word painting that the astute listener will enjoy; the oboe trills pointing to the presumably not completely dissipated morbid fear of death (bar 84) and the woodwind scales suggesting the outstretching of arms (bar 91). The movement is in conventional da capo form reprising the first section exactly. Bach had no need to extend or experiment with formal structures when traditional ones were perfectly suited to his purpose.

The final recitative adds nothing new and is probably only included for balance----I believe that death is but sleep and repose----Jesus, my Saviour shall find me as does a shepherd his lost sheep. It concludes with a flowing arioso stressing the idea of creating one’s own resurrection founded on that of the Saviour. The marching quavers, echoes from the opening, affirm the utter certainty of this declaration of commitment.

The chorale states forthrightly----since You arose from the grave I need not remain there----the fear of death is now discarded and I shall live with You forever, happily departing from this world. The melody is major, uncomplicated and quietly confident, all that we might expect from a soul with reassured faith. The writing for the lower three voices is solidly chordal and lacking any show of ostentation. There are, however, two points which it is important to note. The first is the violin solo floating above all else and extending the four line of counterpoint into five. Dürr (550) interprets it as a yearning for Jesus. It might also suggest the breaking free from earthly mortality and aspiring to the House of Heaven and eternity; one notes it evolving to assert its own independence from initially being yoked to the chorale melody (through a series of 4ths).

The second is the extension of the final phrase and the unexpected flowing of the vocal parts, the musical representation of mortals departing to live with Christ. It states the final words of this essentially positive cantata with calm dignity and appropriate delicacy.

LINK: http://www.bach-cantatas.com/BWV95.htm

Copyright: J Mincham 2010.