Philippe Herreweghe’s series of carefully selected cantatas have tended towards seasonal themes. This latest release largely draws from the rich repository of Trinity pieces of the second Jahrgang (liturgical cycle) from the early years of Bach’s Leipzig tenure. This was indeed a period of intense productivity in the composer’s vocal oeuvre as he sought – among other bold experiments – to devise a highly-wrought method of constructing movements around the particular characteristics of individual chorale tunes.

Herreweghe chooses two such pieces in Nos 2 and 20, although the latter is plainly the superior work. In O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort (one of two settings, the second version – No 60 – no less fascinating for its restless Sturm und Drang opening chorus) there is an obvious example of the increasingly mature and intensely-crafted style of cantata which was to become so prevalent in the mid-1720s. As the opening work in the cycle, Bach deliberately employs the preludial French Overture as the backdrop to the soaring and exclamatory chorale melody.

Such a meticulously considered creation provides Herreweghe with a chance to exercise his incandescent command of imagery within the corporate élan of the excellent Collegium Vocale, Ghent; no other group performing Bach can boast such a seductive elegance in its unforced balance, textural control and sophisticated turn of phrase. In this passionately robust and fervent outpouring, however, Herreweghe’s decorum leaves one at times with a tantalising shortage of muscular energy. Phrases such as ‘O sword that transfixes the soul’ are caressed rather than gripped, as Bach himself fully grasped the human predicament that so arrested him. One wishes here, for example, for more directional responsibility (and even roughage) from the bass line, and a general willingness to step into the unknown – not to return, by default, to the comfort zone of habitual quasi-sacred beautifying.

Elsewhere, the reflective and soft-grained approach works to perfection. His singers are well-matched, highly sensitive to Herreweghe’s ear for instrumental nuance, often defined by the beguiling oboe playing of the remarkable Marcel Ponseele, as in the affirming second aria, ‘Gott ist gerecht’, with the ubiquitous Peter Kooy. This performance of No 20 is as refined as it is dramatically restrained but over the course of half an hour it contains many exquisite performances, from the deeply engaging singing of tenor Jan Kobow to the covered dignity of Ingeborg Danz in the brief but touching ‘O Mensch, errette deine Seele’, again superbly accompanied by Herreweghe.

If O Ewigkeit is the central work here, the pleasure of hearing the succinct and immediate Es ist ein trotzig (No 176) in such distinguished hands is barely less gratifying, as the opening chorus captures the terminal emptiness of a Godless heart. It also reveals the characterful soprano Johannette Zomer, a kind of Zerlina-like presence in ‘Dein sonst hell beliebter Schein’ (‘Your bright gleam’). The choice of Cantata No 2 is a little more mystifying: it’s a rather dour and austere piece whose representation of man’s wretchedness knows no bounds of gloom. Herreweghe puts as strong a case as I’ve yet heard. At 53 minutes, this programme is hardly generous but, all things considered, it is another alluring addition to this slowly unfolding but distinguished series.