In his second recording of the St John Passion Philippe Herreweghe has chosen the second version of Bach’s score‚ from 1725. This contains some significant differences to the original work which Bach introduced to the worshippers of St Nicholas’s Church‚ Leipzig on Good Friday a year earlier. Those unfamiliar with the vicissitudes of the St John will be instantly surprised to hear the opening chorus using the music of ‘O Mensch bewein’ from the St Matthew in its earlier clothing. The absence of the undulating uncertainty and tantalising expectation of the great chorus ‘Herr‚ unser Herrscher’ will always remain disorienting for some‚ its introductory impact too embedded over the years‚ and the St Matthew music too associated with a journey half­completed. While not dissimilar to Peter Neumann’s vitally conceived reading of the same version‚ Herreweghe’s provides important clues as to why the 1725 score deserves an audience. Bach evidently sought to infuse the work (time permitting) with elements of greater dramatic sophistication and distinction. The two arias‚ ‘Himmel reisse’ and ‘Zerschmettert mich’ are indeed remarkable alternatives by any standards‚ and they certainly raise the stakes in theatrical terms. Whether they sit quite so comfortably within the fabric of Bach’s initial concept (‘Ach‚ mein Sinn’ being the prime casualty) is debatable. As I remarked on Neumann’s recording from 1999‚ the majority of the work remains identical in all versions and so the importance of textual discrepancies should not be over­emphasised. This work would seem to be right up Herreweghe’s street‚ crying out for a master of textural illumination and measured command of contrasts; Collegium Vocale Gent are almost tailor­made for the extensive and glowing chorale presence‚ meticulously crafted arias and powerfully declaimed crowd scenes. Indeed‚ the most distinctive quality to Herreweghe’s recording is the consistency of the tonal world he inhabits‚ achieved mainly through refinement of vocal delivery‚ unobtrusive articulation and an amiably coloured instrumental palette. And‚ as so often with Herreweghe‚ there is a luminous inter­dependence between voices and instruments. This awareness is extended to the fine solo line­up headed by Mark Padmore‚ a well­honed and flexible Evangelist who never imposes himself on Herreweghe’s faintly circumspect temperament. If you are looking for a rather more involved narrator‚ then try Anthony Rolfe­Johnson (Gardiner) or Ernst Haefliger (Richter). And for fervent immediacy in the arias look to Rilling‚ Harnoncourt and Neumann (‘Zerschmettert’ is thrilling in this reading). But arched beauty is the order of the day here. While aurally beguiling‚ poised elegance is not always the most eloquent or penetrative answer to the underlying conceit of an aria. Compared to Herreweghe’s first account from 1988 (warm and vivid‚ if comparatively scrappy)‚ there is a slight sense of corrective surgery about much of his standard response to a prevailing conceit. Still‚ one can’t fail to admire Sibylla Rubens‚ a Bach singer of increasing stature. At her best – as in ‘Ich folge’ – she has qualities of both Agnes Giebel and Arleen Auger. If that is high praise‚ she could still provide a little more affection elsewhere to accompany her celebrated and indefatigable control. Michael Volle is a notable Christus and rather more believable than Andreas Scholl. (Is it just me who finds the countertenor’s singing centred disproportionately on tonal luxuriance at the expense of a dialogue with his fellow musicians? The tuning between the voice and the viola da gamba in ‘Es ist vollbracht’ is distinctly unsettled.) This is unquestionably an impressive and stylish new account‚ one of almost unremitting panache. Yet it is the overall vision that is ultimately what one remembers in a Bach Passion. The missing ingredient here is sheer emotional range‚ the ability to elevate the ‘big’ moments with musical gestures outside the standard parlance. A performance‚ then‚ which ravishes rather than enraptures.