The ascetic simplicity of the Klosterkirche Alpirsbach in Bavaria is an ideal setting for a performance of the Passion (or as the transatlantic subtitles refer to it ‘St Matthews [sic] Passion’)‚ one which conveys the uninhibited ease of German musicians performing in parochial familiarity. Sadly though‚ this performance from 1990 is not that echt­intense ritual of an indigenous passion in a Fritz Lehmann‚ Fritz Werner or Karl Richter vein. Whilst the Neubeuern Choral Society is a well­drilled and responsive outfit‚ the vision of its director‚ Enoch zu Guttenberg‚ turns out to be a limited one. While he claims ‘a distinctive style which combines elements of historic performance practice with a lively‚ modern expressiveness‚’ Guttenberg’s path is a well­worn‚ stick­waving affair in which the excellent Munich Bach Collegium’s modern­instrumentalists plough their own furrow‚ undermined only by the conductor’s tendency to short and choppy articulation. If this is the main feature of what Guttenberg considers to be an awareness of ‘historic performance practice’‚ then we are lucky that his acquaintance with ‘period’ style is so cursory. This is nothing short of a mainstream‚ middle­of­the­road account with a steady beat; in the most fundamental sense‚ there lies its veracity. The visual impact is a contained and unobtrusive one‚ a live performance with largely static camera work which keeps its lens firmly on the musicians. Only a stunning woodcut‚ as the ‘motif’ for the more contemplative chorales‚ breaks the mould. Indeed‚ the video production matches the aspirations of the musical ones with alarming frequency. The body language of all but the obbligato players candidly reveals the annual ‘event’‚ one whose predictability leaves little room for any form of musical or spiritual transfiguration. The po­faced continuo team are lifted out of their habitual soporifics by some intermittently fine singing‚ most notably by contralto Jard van Nes‚ whose ‘Buss’ und Reu’’ and ‘Können Tränen’ are accomplished by any standards. Margaret Marshall looks uncomfortable‚ though she is intermittently radiant‚ as in ‘So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen’. Claes­Håkon Ahnsjö parades a cautious if‚ initially‚ ‘job’s­worth’ Evangelist but his vocal reliability and fine diction amount to one of the best attributes of this performance. Aldo Baldin’s tenor arias confirm the remarkable vocal clarity and dramatic conviction heard to memorable effect in Helmuth Rilling’s cantata series. ‘O Schmerz’ suffers from unsettled ensemble but he gives a sprightly account of ‘Geduld’ alongside the alluring viola da gamba obbligato‚ which makes the performer’s omission from the booklet all the more irksome. Hermann Prey‚ as Christus‚ is a shadow of his former self – pale‚ flat and lacking any real presence‚ standing symbolically at the apex of the ensemble. It’s not all hard going. The crowd scenes are effective; Guttenberg makes a feature of ‘Wahrlich‚ dieser ist Gottes Sohn’ – too often passed off as a secondary observation in proceedings – and occasionally an aria is allowed to breathe as in the refreshing balletic quality of ‘Mache dich’. But we are left ultimately with directing which gets more irritating as it goes on‚ with its heavy upbeats‚ stolid articulation‚ foppish manner for heightened sensibility and slow speeds leading to snatched breathing and unnatural phrasing. The penultimate harmonisation of ‘O Haupt voll Blut’ accents every note in a quite extraordinarily ugly gesture. This performance provides a lasting record of a concert performance but it contributes little to the unfolding narrative of interpretations which allow this masterpiece to yield yet more glories.