Herreweghe returns after ten years to re-record a work that did much to bring his distinctive approach to Bach performance to public notice. If not universally acclaimed, the 1988 account on Virgin firmly positioned itself to the left of Gardiner’s racy expansiveness and yet to the right of the one-to-a-part brigade of Rifkin (Nonesuch, 3/83 – nla) and Parrott. This does not apply just to resources and scale (twin focuses of a continually overworked and overrated debate of which the Mass in B minor has regularly been the prime whipping-boy) but also to the true nature of expression in delivering Bach’s famous calling-card-cum-compendium of style mastery. Bach’s 1733 Missa, which constitutes only the Kyrie and Gloria as Bach presented it for promotional purposes to the court at Dresden (as well as the remaining movements, many of which are reworked from cantatas), gives the performer considerable leeway to articulate his own ‘narrative’ and manipulate the work’s inexorable momentum. In this regard, Herreweghe’s first version communicated a clear and engaged purpose, and if often a touch impatient and unaffecting in detail, the interpretation commands – at the very least – respect for its clearly argued intentions, and most memorably, a fragrant, vocalized homogeneity in all parts.
This latest reading is generally more expansive than the earlier account but comparatively unengaged and decidedly short on dramatic and contemplative instinct; the larger choral numbers are characterized by a rather nonchalant swagger, and often overblown and driven sound, and certainly lacking the crystalline immediacy and graceful tapering of phrases from the best of 1988 – and exhibited to even greater effect in recent cantata recordings. The Gloria is smooth and effortless, but less eye-opening and gripping than before, the “Cum sancto spiritu” is unsettled and the Credo sounds tired and uncharacteristically scrappy. There is a certain authority and panache in its broad brush-strokes, and a more developed technical accomplishment (the instrumental playing is fine throughout) but it all adds up to a rather disingenuous whole. The arias appear as mini set-pieces too regularly, despite a fine solo line-up, best represented in the long-breathed phrasing of Hanno Muller-Brachmann in the “Quoniam” and a wonderfully controlled Benedictus from Christoph Pregardien. The duets are seamless and impeccably delivered by Veronique Gens and Johannette Zomer in the “Christe”, if somewhat unquesting. Andreas Scholl is his honey-toned self, if not a meticulous listener to those around him. He gorgeously moulds the extraordinary Agnus Dei, even if it sounds faintly ridiculous at such a slow tempo. This ‘playing to the gallery’ is strangely out of keeping in a reading which all too often goes through the motions. To the neutral, there is much seasoned expertise to be found here. For those who know what this could have been, it is something of a disappointment.'