Thankfully, recent recordings of Bach's great legacy for future generations (if we can believe that the B minor Mass was assembled without at least a vague performance ideal in mind) have shown a healthy suspicion for those who propagated that one-to-a-part singing in the choruses was to consume all previously known, or desired, practices. Despite Joshua Rifkin's anachronistic St Matthew Passion Prom, this debate should have been put firmly into perspective during the last decade, as no more than an interesting experiment and usually artistically unsatisfying—as well as a good excuse to question whether the number of musicians present on a Sunday morning in Leipzig is one of the lastingly relevant historical or interpretative issues in Bach performance. Whether or not one wishes to hear minimalist Bach is of course entirely subjective but what this latest recording shows—in a recent line of distinguished performances using moderate-sized groups—is that extremes in choral population are not thought to serve the music adequately over the complete canvas.
Harry Christophers has here a choir of 26 (at peak times), and he proves the point in as compelling a group of singers as I have heard project Bach's contrapuntal tours des forces. Indeed, when one realizes that 18 out of 27 movements are written for chorus, this already indicates a large vote of confidence for this latest account. Christophers has a refreshingly straightforward approach to proceedings which does much to eradicate the mannerisms which period performances have inherited from one another, such as over-accentuation on appoggiaturas in the first fugal Kyrie. Here, we have lightly dabbed appoggiaturas, certainly no less expressive in the context of a continuously unfolding line, which Christophers perceives in long stretches, always imploringly and logically directed. If the Kyrie, Et Incarnatus (a little staged) and Crucifixus are notably poised, then the more exuberant movements are as thrilling as you will hear anywhere, including Richard Hickox's finely wrought account. This does not mean that all of them tear off at breakneck speeds, though the ''Cum Sanctu Spiritu'' is certainly as quick as on Gardiner's version. Rather, the effect is one of robust control and in the case of the Gloria and Osanna a wonderful stateliness emerges; the former has the odd rhythmic unsteadiness (why do bars 5 and 6 of the first movement accelerate so markedly?) but the latter is very grand and pageant-like. I now realize that one of the reasons why this extended D major section can tire the ears is because these great choruses are too often taken at similar speeds.
Christophers's speeds are almost without exception well-judged and this is evident in the arias too, though not all of them settle easily for other reasons. ''Christe Eleison'' lacks the necessary light and shade and Catherine Dubosc's intonation is not exact enough to match John Mark Ainsley's stronger presence in ''Domine Deus'' (delightfully accompanied by Rachel Beckett's flute and the orchestra). Dubosc fares better in ''Et in Unum'' where her partner in that aria, James Bowman, sings an irresistible ''Qui Sedes'' joined by Anthony Robson's beautifully shaped oboe d'amore playing, also characterized by an eloquent manipulation of the beat. If the men take the solo honours (I should not omit Michael George's ''Quoniam'', performed with real conviction), it is Christophers's vision of the whole which leaves a lasting impression. Herreweghe's more rarefied though equally homogeneous conception contains more of the subtle nuance you would expect from a man with such a considerable grasp of Bach's rhetorical world. Yet, his recording ultimately lacks guts at crucial moments. Here we have decorum without mannerism and directness without vulgarity. Other distinctive traits are a breezy harpsichord, whose presence I would have enjoyed even more with a touch less brise, and a fine recorded sound: well balanced with clear definition (try the opening of the Credo). So a fresh and exciting new version warmly welcomed.'