For anyone with a guilty conscience, the Dunedin Consort’s programme of Bach cantatas and concertos, “Cantatas for the Soul”, offered a number of possibilities. You could listen to an uncompromising sermon to help you back to the straight and narrow, and then if still tempted, then death offered the ultimate way to avoid succumbing to worldly pleasures. Alternatively, you could just weep copious tears of repentance and if all else fails, you can just forget everything else and be absorbed in the sheer pleasure of the violin concertos.
Listening to the lament Ach dass ich Wassers genug hätte for solo alto by Johann Sebastian’s older cousin Johann Christoph Bach gives a fascinating glimpse into the Bach family’s substantial musical heritage; Johann Christoph clearly sharing his younger relative’s gift for using music to probe the hidden depths of the soul. The gist of the text is that the writer does not have enough tears in his head to weep for all his sin. A viola da gamba sets up a mournful introduction building into a musical outpouring of grief in a cascading vocal line, echoed and enhanced by a solo violin. Before he started singing, countertenor James Laing created an aura of stillness around himself, out of which blossomed a pure, angelic voice. Laing was a late replacement for Tim Mead, who was unwell; there was a minor problem of balance with the solo violin in the first section of this piece, possibly because Laing, understandably, had to look down at his music more than he might have liked. As well as the falling musical tears, Laing gave us a heartbreaking sob on the long note of the word "Augen" (eyes), shaping and growing the note before closing the lament in a tightly controlled pianissimo.
Between the cantatas, the two violin concertos gave us pause to regather emotional strength before our next set of advice on conquering sin. Soloist Cecilia Bernadini stretched the tops of her phrases in the outer movements to great effect, particularly in the A minor concerto, pulling up, hovering for just a moment before flying off again. Balancing this rubato, her light and mostly subtle ornamentation was carefully placed to keep things moving forwards, apart from one cheeky high run in the first movement of the E major concerto that just stayed within the bounds of good taste, and made everyone smile. In the slow movement that followed, the thread of a single long note in the solo part, and a beautifully phrased cello line from Sarah MacMahon drew us close in, to a private intensity, full of secrets, that contrasted with the public statements of the cantatas.