Derek L Stauff

Since the late nineteenth century, scholars have formulated theories about the role and placement of organs in the St. Matthew Passion , using them to interpret the work’s theological message and anchor broader ideas about how Bach positioned his other players and singers for performances in the Thomaskirche . The church housed two permanently fixed organs: a large one in the west gallery and the misleadingly labeled swallow’s nest organ in a gallery on the east wall. The latter, smaller organ has become the central point in debates about the Passion, leading to a variety of interpretations. The current evidence, reviewed here in substantial detail, does not unequivocally prove any of the main theories. Yet not all are equally strong. By examining the history of scholarship on the St. Matthew Passion and by carefully reexamining the evidence, we can grow more aware of weaknesses stemming from the enduring influence of older scholarship, based on questionable premises, outdated information, or seemingly unintentional misreading. The results argue strongly against one of the most common theories, which posits a small auxiliary role for the east gallery organ, along with a “third choir,” for most of Bach’s performances. Proponents of this theory have sometimes harnessed it to add another layer of theological symbolism to Bach’s music. This too is questionable. Musical evidence may also argue against it. Bach’s changing approach to scoring the chorale “O Lamm Gottes, unschuldig” in the opening movement shows that the melody does not work in dialectic opposition to the two main choruses, as sometimes claimed, but emerges from within the group. In place of this theory, two alternatives stand out: either the full separation of the two choirs between the two galleries of the Thomaskirche or the positioning of all performers in the west gallery, with no role for the east gallery or its organ for any of Bach’s Passion performances. Though neither fully accounts for every detail in the evidence nor answers all possible objections, they do offer more satisfying explanations than the alternatives.

This past summer marked a very successful launch of the Ruth Monte Memorial Bach Competition. Designed for pianists ages 12 to 18 living in North America, the competition's final round gathered six performers and their families from across the US to play at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend IN on June 9 & 10. The results far exceeded the expectations of the organizers, participants, and families. Across two days, they heard not just technically exceptional and thoughtful playing but also saw a cohort of young musicians growing in their interest and knowledge of Bach. All this certainly can be attributed, first, to the generosity of the competition's sponsor, the Ruth and Noel Monte Fund, as well as to the diligence of the competition organizers, Andrew Talle and Paul Walker. The ABS also enjoyed the support of their host, the University of Notre Dame, and especially Erin Taylor, a graduate student in the sacred music program. And finally, this year's competition owed its success to the goodwill of the contestants and their parents.

The Leipzig Convention (spring 1631), convened by the elector of Saxony to address pressing issues of the escalating Thirty Years War, offered Schütz and the Dresden court chapel many opportunities to perform. Wolfram Steude hypothesized that Schütz's concerto on Psalm 85, Herr, der du bist vormals gnädig gewest (SWV 461), was performed then. This essay questions his argument and proposes instead three settings of Psalm 83 (concertos by Tobias Michael and Samuel Scheidt plus an anonymous motet) that date from this time. Even if not performed specifically at the convention, these pieces are more strongly associated with its politics.

Two sets of manuscript parts reveal the priorities and practices of musicians from Breslau (Wrocław) when transforming Italian madrigals into Lutheran spiritual madrigals in the waning years of the Thirty Years War (ca. 1640s). One is a previously unrecognized contrafactum of Monteverdi's Hor che'l ciel et la terra (Eighth Book of Madrigals) by cantor Michael Büttner, the other a set of contrafacta of Marco Scacchi's Madrigali a cinque by Ambrosius Profe. Both sets likely served as preliminary stages for selections published in Profe's anthologies. Many of the retexted madrigals vividly evoke the political and religious conflicts then plaguing war-torn Silesia.

For early modern Lutherans Heinrich Schutz's Saul, Saul, was verfolgst du mich? would have evoked fears of religious persecution. Its text, from the narrative of Paul's conversion in Acts 9, appears in seventeenth-century devotional writings and confessional polemics about persecution. Moreover, recently uncovered archival evidence shows that Schutz performed his concerto in 1632 at a state-sponsored political festival marking the first anniversary of the Battle of Breitenfeld, a major Protestant victory in the Thirty Years War. Here Schutz's concerto clearly stoked fears of persecution, because the celebrations touted the battle as a victory over Catholic oppression. The political context in 1632 might also explain some of the piece's most notable features. Its unusually brief text and vivid music do not illustrate the whole story of Saul's conversion but solely the moment at which Quist intervened to put a stop to persecution. Schutz's listeners would have heard in Saul's example a parallel to the victory they were celebrating in 1632 and the persecution they feared from their Catholic and imperial adversaries. This performance of Saul, the only one known from Schutz's lifetime, shows how his music partook in a broader campaign of Protestant propaganda designed to reinforce the confessional and political divisions that fueled this phase of the war.