Helmuth Rilling - J.S. Bach: Geschwinde, ihr wirbelnde Winde BWV 201 (1997)

Helmuth Rilling’s unabated desire to record and re-record Bach is clearly endemic in his profound identification with a choral oeuvre of which he is, arguably, the world’s most experienced living exponent. Geschwinde, ihr wirbelnden Winde (better known as “The Contest between Phoebus and Pan”) is a colourful setting of Picander’s tame libretto of Phoebus’s whitewashing of Pan’s musical credentials, a Meistersinger scenario spiced up with a subtext on the increasing banality of musical tastes c1730: “inflated heat but little ballast”, as Mercury has it. This recording contains many Rilling attributes, old and new; most strikingly, to his credit, there is no letting up in the adrenalin level as he gets older, as there clearly was with his late compatriot, Karl Richter. The disciplined fizz of the opening chorus is a thrilling and infectious experience, with a tempo that takes your breath away: such is the vocal and instrumental virtuosity of the Stuttgart forces that Rilling has at his disposal.
In comparison, “the swirling winds” are mere gusts in the graceful, if comparatively diffident gestures in Jacobs’s reading (on a two-disc set). This is not merely a modern versus ‘period’ issue since Jacobs is as free-breathed in the ‘mainstream’ sense as Rilling is occasionally hidebound: Rilling can indeed be accused of fairly single-dimensional characterization in the engagements between Phoebus and Pan and their respective acolytes. This is, after all, a work with all the sophisticated theatrical imagery and innuendo of a composer keen to impress his credentials in a secular context, in particular that of Collegium Musicum and Zimmermann’s garden. Jacobs’s version in this respect conveys far more imagination and humour. Where Rilling has the edge over so many ‘period’ performances is in the universal excellence of his singers. Although Jacobs is well endowed in this respect, there is no touching Matthias Goerne’s Phoebus in the soft-grained tenderness of “Mit verlangen”; even a Pan of Dietrich Henschel’s quality can find little redress. Sibylla Rubens sits more happily with Rilling than in her recent appearances for Koopman’s secular cantatas; she seems to be coaxed here to realize fully her enticing vocal presence; this has nothing to do with volume but a bloom ravishingly exhibited in her accompanied recitative. The two tenors are well complemented, James Taylor switching from Tmolus in Jacobs to Midas here.
Many will find Rilling’s approach too clinical and unrelenting (not helped by an intrusive and saccharine harpsichord continuo) but there is no doubting the distinctive quality of recent Bach recordings from Stuttgart, of which this is a notable example; 48 minutes of music may well not be enough for some, though.