It is rare for a major work composed before 1650 that we know why, where and when it was first performed, down to the very day; and, rarer still, what performance conditions the composer had in mind. Schütz’s Musicalische Exequien was written for one of Schütz’s early patrons, Count Heinrich II (Posthumus) von Reuss of Gera, in whose territories the composer was born. He was on friendly terms with the count, who may well have mooted the idea himself: the biblical texts on which the work draws were inscribed on the lid and sides of Heinrich’s metal coffin according to a carefully planned design. The coffin survives; not so the church in which it was first placed, which was subsequently destroyed in a fire and the coffin relocated to the nearby Salvatorkirche, where it was rediscovered in 1995. (Photographs of it adorn several recent recordings.) There were two funerals; the second, on February 4, 1636, gives us the date of the first performance, though the piece may have been composed in anticipation. Schütz did not attend, but the count’s family had the score printed. No complete copy is extant, but we do have Schütz’s preliminary remarks.

Count Heinrich II for whom Schütz composed this work (photography: The Picture Art Collection / Alamy Stock Photo)

The Exequien is endlessly fascinating, not least because from these texts Schütz fashions a musical form for which there appears to have been no precedent. The work consists of three parts. Part 1 is modelled on the form of a Lutheran Kyrie and Gloria, including three choral invocations for the ersatz Kyrie, which sets the pattern for the rest: episodes for small groups of soloists (the favoriti) punctuated by choral interventions that take the form of ritornellos. (This recalls the structure of the acts in Monteverdi’s Orfeo, and Schütz reworked materials from the solo episodes in other extant publications.) Part 2, ‘Herr, wenn ich nur dich habe’, is a motet for two equal choirs, and Part 3 is a German setting of the Nunc dimittis, with a group of favoriti set apart from the choir and singing a different text (‘Selig sind die Toten’). There are clear indications that Schütz thought carefully about the relationship of texts and form: for example, the precise composition of the favoriti in Part 3 (two high voices and one low) is prefigured in a section of Part 1 that dwells likewise on the souls of the righteous (‘Die Gerechten Seelen’). Probably because this form of funeral music had no precedent, Schütz included performance suggestions in the prefatory note to the printed score. For Part 1, the choir may consist of up to 12 singers, including the favoriti, and the continuo section should consist of a ‘quiet’ organ with capped, wooden pipes, supported by a deep bowed bass (‘violone’). Schütz states that the organ may be omitted in Part 2, consistent with his preference (stated elsewhere) for double-choir music to be performed a cappella – a stipulation adhered to in fewer than a handful of recordings; and for Part 3, the favoriti (named in the score to represent Heinrich’s departing soul and two seraphim) should be not only audibly distanced from the choir but preferably invisible to the congregation – an exceptional prescription for the time and magical in effect.

The Exequien on record

Early recordings take scant account of these performance indications. The tempos of the Heinrich-Schütz-Kreis München under Karl Richter now feel unfeasibly slow. He has good soloists (particularly the tenors) but tuning problems in the massive choir are underscored by a very static continuo group, which is barely audible in the choral sections. Part 2 is, if anything, even more ponderous, and the attempt at spatial distancing in Part 3 just sounds weird. Monumentality characterises all these early accounts, many of which (like Richter’s) include boy trebles in the choir, and sometimes as soloists.

Directing the Westfälische Kantorei, Wilhelm Ehmann achieves a livelier effect, partly by including instrumental doublings that Schütz did not intend (and a theorbo in the continuo section, whose inclusion is more of a moot point). The same is true of Günter Graulich at the helm of the Mottetenchor Stuttgart nearly 15 years later, but with better soloists. Of these early outings the most satisfying, though still typical of its time, is Rudolf Mauersberger’s 1968 recording with the Dresdner Kreuzchor. Though sounding a touch strident, the timbre (and intonation, for the most part) of the boy trebles is secure. Soloists are reliable, with Peter Schreier a notable cast member. But there is little sense of the characterisation in the favoriti segments of Part 1 that becomes standard later, and the spatialisation of Part 3, when attempted at all, is often attenuated by the recording technology.

At the tail end of this tradition comes Hans‑Martin Linde with Chiaroscuro and the Knabenkantorei Basel, recorded for EMI in 1979. In rhetorical terms we are on more familiar ground: the static quality noted previously gives way to something more incisive and dynamic, with greater differentiation of the individual sections of Part 1. Nigel Rogers’s vocal ensemble Chiaroscuro provides the cast of soloists, marking a notable step-change in quality, but in comparison the monumentality of the choir is a throwback. Part 2 is treated to full orchestration, complete with doublings; it’s nicely done, but that aside, the interpretation rarely catches fire.

Seminal recordings

Now to the late 1980s, the ‘big bang’ of the Exequien’s discography, when two seminal recordings by non-German ensembles appeared within months of each other. The immediately striking thing about La Chapelle Royale under Philippe Herreweghe is the quality of the soloists, with high tenors instead of countertenors – no weak links but beautiful singing across the range – and the choir, whose collective identity is instantly identifiable: warm, inward, utterly secure. Herreweghe’s expert use of rubato (hardly if ever replicated before or since) sculpts and shapes details in the solo sections and audible gradations and transitions within the choir, which is smaller than any previously. There is new urgency in Schütz’s rhetorical use of repetition (‘sondern das ewiger Leben haben’, ‘machet uns rein von allen Sünder’, ‘Herr, ich lasse dich nicht’), which we now take for granted, and a clear distinction between a (largely reflective) chorus and the more dynamically engaged favoriti. (The bass duo ‘Unser Leben’ begins tentatively but soon melds into something brooding and magical.) For the first time, the continuo (including a lute, which Schütz admittedly doesn’t call for) is an active protagonist, detailed and telling. Finally, the audible differentiation of choirs in Part 3 sets the tone for so much of what will follow. The sound recording has aged a little, but not significantly.

From the following year come the Monteverdi Choir and soloists with His Majesties Sagbutts and Cornetts under John Eliot Gardiner. Recorded in a dry acoustic, Gardiner’s account is leaner and tauter than Herreweghe’s, its interventions more incisive, almost aggressive (but capable of softening where needed, eg before ‘Ich weiss, das mein Erlöser lebt’). Another contrast with Herreweghe is the continuo, just organ and bass, almost wilfully non-interventionist (perhaps another consequence of the acoustic). The soloists can be very athletic but lack the expressivity of the Ghenters. At ‘Weil du vom Todt’ in Part 1, the choir’s mood is almost jaunty (a possible misstep) and the organ in Part 2 is anything but quiet. This projects the work’s drama outwards, theatrically. (The inclusion of sackbuts in Part 3 is in the same spirit.) Sonically less enveloping than Herreweghe, this remains a bracing, almost iconoclastic reading, which the choir’s tendency to get the better of the soloists slightly unbalances. But the contrast is fascinating.

The step-change initiated by Herreweghe and Gardiner was followed less than five years later by Howard Arman and the mixed Schütz-Akademie (recorded in the Salvatorkirche in Gera), who follow the composer’s suggestions even more closely. For the first time the soloists are audibly drawn from the choir – an attractive feature, albeit that they are not quite as memorable as on other accounts. The set’s greatest strength is the choir, beautifully focused but not strident. In a consistently pleasing account, Part 3 stands out: for the first time, the spatial distancing of the favoriti desired by Schütz is a palpable effect, the recorded sound capturing the genius loci wonderfully.

Meanwhile, echoes of earlier Germanic approaches endured. Recorded after the millennium, the Alsfelder Vokalensemble led by Wolfgang Helbich has boy trebles both in the choir and on solo lines, but with technical standards incomparably raised: the trebles are wonderfully communicative and the soloists generally top-notch, conveying the drama of each episode. The choral interventions lack the incisiveness of the Ghenters (let alone Gardiner) but as an update of the traditional German approach this is most enjoyable; and if you want boy trebles in your choir, this must be a contender. Still more impressive are the French Ensemble Vocal Akadêmia under Françoise Lasserre, who, like Ehmann and Graulich, uses instruments (including winds and brass) to accompany the choir, as well as theorbo in the continuo. Such lavish use of instruments is alien to Schütz’s conception but the performance is such as to suspend the disbelief even in a purist: superb soloists, with a secure, compact and confidently directed mixed choir, and in La Fenice a sumptuous instrumental ensemble.

Other recordings with instruments fail to convince. Cappella Augustana under Matteo Messori lack forward motion and ensemble cohesion, and the recorded sound dulls the instruments’ presence. The Sixteen under Harry Christophers are reminiscent of Gardiner in approach, but writ larger. This brisk account skates over essential details, and Part 3 entirely misses the point by disregarding the distinction between choir and favoriti and adding brass into the bargain. A more searching interpretation comes from the American Bach Soloists under Jeffrey Thomas. The choral interventions offer more shade and nuance and the soloists are very good, but again, the presence of instruments in Part 3 causes problems of balance.

The most recent instrumental offering is from the Stuttgarter Hymnus-Chorknaben with Rainer Johannes Homburg: big choral sound with boy trebles and soloists, continuo with theorbo, the winds of Roland Wilson’s Musica Fiata adding an extra helping of opulence. This is the fastest account by some margin, and arguably the oddest. Lasting well under 20 minutes, Part 1 goes by so fast that one barely registers the words, while the vocal quality of the trebles (and of some soloists) verges at times on the agricultural.

The comparatively large choral sound trailed by The Sixteen and the American Bach Soloists (minus the instruments) is heard in several more recent offerings. The Theatre of Early Music under Daniel Taylor features a nicely balanced, discreet continuo group but is not as tightly marshalled as its American counterparts. The Chapelle Vocale de l’Université de Lausanne under Jean‑Christophe Aubert is large even by recent standards and the soloists don’t match those of the best accounts (notwithstanding some expressive singing in Part 3). The same is true of Chorwerk Ruhr under Florian Helgath, who draw their soloists from the choir; this is a far more assured ensemble but the direction, though sure-footed, doesn’t draw out the score’s dramatic potential. (That said, Part 2, done a cappella, sounds very smart.)

Recent offerings

In the past 15 years one notes a move away from choirs towards vocal ensembles with two or three to a part or fewer still – a paring down of Herreweghe’s approach, one might say. (With such small numbers, the soloists are necessarily drawn from the choir.) The pioneers appear to be La Chapelle Rhénane under Benoît Haller in 2007, a very fine specialist ensemble. There’s plenty of detail and incident, with the continuo (including theorbo and harp) tellingly withheld at key moments. If anything, the continuo might have been reined in further everywhere else: it’s a little intrusive and the sound recording obscures the voices at times. That’s a pity, because the quasi-operatic quality of the favoriti in Part 3 is intriguing, the use of plucked continuo to accompany them highly effective and its spatial distancing very convincing. The same acoustic problem (with the same result, an over-dominant continuo) mars two recent but similarly configured accounts by Voces Suaves under Johannes Strobl and Concentus König under Jorge Suárez. The young singers of Sagittarius under Michel Laplénie take a similar approach to Haller’s group, very sympathetically but with less distinctive results vocally.

Whether zeitgeist or coincidence, several of the finest ensembles soon followed in Haller’s wake: the half-dozen years from 2010 account for most of the recordings in contention for my four top spots. That year saw the release of the first strictly one-to-a-part reading, from Amarcord and Cappella Sagittariana Dresden. They are undeniably slick, bright and sharp, at times almost skittish; like other breezy accounts, they miss the emotional depths and compelling sonic presence that La Petite Bande (for one) later achieve with identical forces. Veteran Schütz specialists Weser-Renaissance Bremen under Manfred Cordes deliver a characteristically thoughtful and considered performance: they too perform with soloists throughout, but the performance doesn’t take off as one might expect. The cast members don’t attain the polish or expressive pitch of this ensemble at their best, either individually or collectively. I suspect the sound recording is partly responsible, for it lacks the sheen and the clarity of those that come after (the distancing of the favoriti in Part 3 a case in point.)

From the following year come two superlative accounts, from Vox Luminis and the Dresdner Kammerchor. It’s just as well that they take different approaches. Lionel Meunier’s choir has a dozen voices and includes the soloists, whereas Hans‑Christoph Rademann’s is larger by roughly half and separate from the favoriti. Crucial as this distinction is, it matters less than it might. The acoustic for Vox Luminis is the warmer and more luminous of the two and the sound recording seemingly more distanced, meaning that one can easily overlook the difference in size between the two ensembles. Although Vox Luminis are animated when it is appropriate (in the penultimate chorus of Part 1, for example), the Dresdners take a brisker approach overall in each of the three sections and a higher pitch-standard (by a semitone). The size and quality of the two continuo sections are just as evenly matched (neither includes a theorbo) and so are the soloists. Both ensembles render the architecture of Part 1 with great clarity; unsurprisingly given my description, the Belgian ensemble are more inclined to linger over details. One of the litmus tests is the falls and rises of the penultimate solos section, ‘Herr, ich lasse dich nicht’: both groups of soloists manage it beautifully. It is hard indeed to know which to prefer, and I have wavered on this for years: on the one hand, Rademann’s more incisive approach to the double choir of Part 2; on the other, the magical quality of Part 3, which Meunier and his singers capture so memorably, as Lindsay Kemp noted in his original review.

Recording shortly after these two were issued, La Petite Bande under Sigiswald Kuijken live up to their name and can claim the purist’s crown. It is by some margin the most successful of the versions done entirely with soloists. Whether Schütz would have expected such an approach in Part 1 is a moot point, but he would certainly have approved of the a cappella performance of Part 2. The microphone-work seems to bring the soloists closer than the choir, enhancing the sense of intimacy; that may be a subtle trick, but it draws attention to the text as few other recordings do. The spatialisation of Part 3 is comparable to Meunier’s in its way, though markedly faster. The continuo (again without theorbo) is as unobtrusive as with Vox Luminis and the Dresdners. Closest to the latter in terms of ensemble and conception, BachPlus directed by Bart Naessens propose a still livelier reading, reminiscent of Gardiner’s extroversion but less strident. The vocal contributions are on a consistently high level (though they don’t quite rival the very best) and there are neat interpretative touches (at ‘Du segnest mich denn’, for instance). But the continuo nearly steals the show: it ‘pre-intones’ the central chorale episode of Part 1 on its own, and its presence illuminates the whole performance. Indeed, some may find it too bright, given Schütz’s specification concerning the tone and dynamic level of the organ. All the same, it’s the most satisfying of the most recent accounts.

Final choices

Usually, my final selection in these Collections aims at a variety of approaches, not least because the conditions of actual performances are often so conjectural before 1650 and because there are relatively few recordings to choose from. But here we have Schütz’s directly expressed views and nearly 30 recordings, so I have excluded those that stray very far from his suggestions. Still, I’ve thought long and hard before passing over Akadêmia’s sumptuous reading with instruments. I should say, to finish, that in subtly different ways the remainder of the four programmes I have chosen (and the one from Akadêmia) complement the Exequien marvellously.

TOP CHOICE

Vox Luminis / Lionel Meunier

Ricercar RIC311

Gramophone’s Recording of the Year in 2012 has a luminous sound image and an interpretation that is both reflective and dynamic. The spatial effect of Part 3 is magical.

THE RUNNER-UP

Dresden Chbr Ch / Hans-Christoph Rademann

Carus CARUS83 238

A foil for my top choice, with faster tempos, a slightly larger choir and soloists to rival Vox Luminis. The sound is focused and Rademann eloquently conveys the architecture of Part 1.

THE PURIST’S CHOICE

La Petite Bande / Sigiswald Kuijken

Accent ACC24299

The most successful of the accounts with solo voices throughout: the pared‑down approach allows voices and ensemble to shine and focuses attention on the words.

THE HISTORIC CHOICE

La Chapelle Royale / Philippe Herreweghe

Harmonia Mundi HMG50 1261

Possibly the most influential recording of all, and the ancestor of my other choices. Superb vocal quality, a theorbo added to the continuo and effective use of rubato: this continues to impress.

This feature originally appeared in the July 2024 issue of Gramophone. Never miss an issue of the world's leading classical music magazine – subscribe to Gramophone today