July 11: Cantatas (Nikolaus Harnoncourt & Gustav Leonhardt, conductors)

On Michael Hedges, Bach's melodies, and bad casting choices

Way back when / in ‘97, my albums of the summer were “Aerial Boundaries” and “Breakfast in the Field,” by Michael Hedges.

Windham Hill Records, 1981

Hedges was a revelatory acoustic guitarist who expanded his instrument’s orchestral possibilities through harmonics and novel percussive techniques — a physical player inspired by classical minimalism, way out jazz, and Neil Young. In the early days of Usenet guitar tab forums, I would print middling transcriptions of Michael’s music from the campus computer lab, and tried my best to imitate him from my dorm room.

Here’s Michael performing his mesmerizing masterpiece, “Aerial Boundaries.” It’s a journey of beauty and power:

As a teenager exploring the possibilities of music, I found Michael’s relentless curiosity, compositional rigor, and unmatched virtuosity to be heroic. I couldn’t wait to hear him perform live.

Michael was headlining a little club 20 miles from the Rutgers campus in November 1997. I didn’t have a car, and to my everlasting regret, I didn’t bother trying to motivate a group of friends to go. Michael was scheduled to return in the spring at a theater walkable from campus — I’d catch him then.

Here’s an internet rando’s review of that club show over twenty years later:

Like some of you, I’ve been refreshing the NYTimes.com homepage for decades, far too often and to diminishing returns. From that computer lab in December 1997, I powered up Netscape and surfed to the Times Arts section. I saw a headline, and sank in my seat — I still get shaken up reading it.

What a loss, for all of us. I couldn’t believe I’d never get to see him perform, and that we weren’t going to hear where Michael would take the guitar, and all of us, next. His compact body of work includes solo guitar masterpieces (including the late composition, “Java Man”) and folk songs for the ages (“Woman of the World,” “Running Blind”). He continues to inspire me.

I’m writing about Michael to introduce him to you all (and to encourage you to go see the artists who are important you whenever you can, even if you don’t have a car or friends to go with), but also to share an extraordinary quote of his that resonates with our yearlong exploration of Bach’s music:

Melody is the heart

Rhythm is the guts

Harmony is the mind

These words came to mind when I was listening to the second Aria from BWV 164, with its canon vocals, dancing woodwinds and strings, and every beat unfolding curious combinations of voices:

We generally don’t come to Bach for his melodies — a great Bach melody always feels like a bonus to deep riches of his rhythm and harmony. Even his greatest melodies (like the first Prelude of the WTC Book 1, and the first movement of the first cello sonata) are more like splayed out chords than magic earworms.

In Hedges’ formulation, Bach hits the guts and mind more than the heart — though whenever my guts and mind become highly activated, my heart often follows. I’m a brainy guy by constitution, and I’ve walked the Earth dopily thinking that my body exists to carry my head around. I know that heart is in there, but it’s always accessed indirectly. Bach, like Michael Hedges and my other favorite musicians, helps me understand the fullness of myself.

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Here are some highlights from BWV 163-166 and 171-174 as recorded by the Concentus Musicus Wien between 1986 and 1988 on the Teldec label, conducted by Nikolous Harnoncourt and Gustav Leonhardt:

These were among the first ‘historically informed’ recorded performances of the cantatas, for better or worse. The orchestra isn’t particularly tight, and there are no women singers, which is a huge bummer, more on that below.

At the start of BWV 165, Bach launches a melody like a firework that explodes into a fugue — every subsequent note is predestined and perfectly placed. I cannot explain this magic. The score follows:

A beautiful area from BWV 166, with an aching violin and oboe trailing the singer; I shall think of heaven / and not give away my heart to the world:

Flute duet for the win in the third movement of BWV 164; I’ve cut it off before the countertenor comes in:

The boy soprano duetting with the countertenor in the fifth movement of BWV 172 is basically unlistenable, piss poor casting:

An absurdly low bass note closes the second movement of BWV 172; he’s like a singing tree trunk:

The duet in the fifth movement of BWV 173 duet works nicely with the boy and bass:

The band is pleasantly punchy in the opening sinfonia of BWV 174, a bit of swagger:

JSB must have been in a good mood this week, as I have been — let’s finish with a bit of presto violins from the fourth movement of the same work: