Selig sing die toten, SWV 391 (1648)

Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672)

Gott, sei mir gnädig nach deiner Güte (1705)

     I. Gott, sei mir gnädig nach deiner Güte

     VI. Lass mich hören Freund und Wonne

Johann Huhnau (1660-1722)

Satanas und sein Getümmel (pre-1700)

     I. Sonata

     V. Jesus hat nun überwunden

     VI. Amen

Georg Böhm (1661-1733)

O cessate di piagarmi (c. 1700)

Alessandro Scarlatti (1659-1725)

Missa Brevis (Sine Nomine, 1590)

     I. Kyrie

     II. Gloria

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-1594)

Membra Jesu nostril (1680)

     III. Ad manus

Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707)

Laudate Jehovam omnes gentes (1758)

Georg Phillip Teleman (1681-1767)

Es ist nun aus mit meinem Leben (pre-1690)

Johann Christoph Bach (1642-1703)

Bist du bei mir (1718)

Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel (1690-1749)

Ich lasse dich nicht, BWV 1164 (c. 1710)

Johann Christoph Bach &

Johann Sebastian Bach

Dona Nobis Pacem (from Mass in B minor, BWV 232 (1749))

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

Johann Sebastian Bach is often seen as the pinnacle of the Baroque era, and even, to some, as the most prolific and iconic touchstone of any composer across all time — a learned musician whose mas­tery of counterpoint, formal architecture, and theological profundity established a benchmark that has seldom been equaled. Even more than 250 years after his death, his name remains a household one. He was fluent in Latin and French, and he taught himself Italian. By the age of 15, he had al­ready far surpassed the standard academ­ic curriculum for boys of his age, studying Advanced Arithmetic, Philosophy, Poetry, Physics, Linguistics, Theology, Classical Lit­erature, Geography, Logic, Rhetoric, organ building, played numerous instruments, and possessed a well-regarded “beautiful soprano voice.” By 18, he was known as one of the most exceptional organists of his time. But no genius emerges in a vacuum.

This program explores the musical an­cestry that shaped Bach’s intellect and imagination: his mentors, colleagues, and precursors within both sacred and secular traditions across Europe. Indeed, as we studied these compositions in rehearsal, we also examined a document listing no fewer than 25 composers — including significant figures not featured in this program, such as Frescobaldi, Pachelbel, and Schelle — whose works Bach studied and performed during his formative years. While attending St. Michael’s School in Lüneburg, he had ac­cess to one of the oldest, largest, and most opulent choral libraries in Germany (only St. Thomas’s in Leipzig could compare) — a collection exceeding 1,100 works. He had extraordinary resources at his disposal, and he made full and deliberate use of them.

We begin with Heinrich Schütz, widely regarded as the greatest German compos­er before Bach. A student of Giovanni Ga­brieli in Venice, Schütz introduced the Italian concertato style to Lutheran Germany. Selig sind die Toten reflects his gift for merging expressive text setting with architectural precision — a quality that Bach would later embrace with even greater intricacy. You will notice highly independent vocal lines and striking tonal shifts that vividly illumi­nate the textual meaning.

Johann Kuhnau, Bach’s immediate predecessor as Thomaskantor in Leipzig, is best remembered for his keyboard sonatas, yet his sacred vocal music reveals signifi­cant rhetorical insight. His setting of Psalm 51 (Gott, sei mir gnädig), from which we perform only the first and final movements, is both penitential and intimate, prefigur­ing the emotive potential Bach would fully realize in his Mass and Passion settings.

Georg Böhm, organist at Lüneburg, had a formative influence on the young Bach during his adolescent years. Indeed, Böhm is often regarded as his most influential instructor. The cantata Satanas und sein Getümmel exemplifies the North German stylus phantasticus — a genre marked by dramatic unpredictability, vivid expressive­ness, and rhetorical contrast in its musical depiction of cosmic struggle between good and evil. We are presenting only the open­ing and final two movements of the six-part work. You’ll hear drama and a certain brilliance in Böhm’s writing, though without the consummate mastery of counterpoint and orchestration that characterizes Bach.

Italian influences are represented by Alessandro Scarlatti, whose operatic idiom reached German audiences via traveling musicians and circulating manuscripts. His O cessate di piagarmi offers a concise yet potent glimpse into the recitative-aria paradigm that shaped Baroque expressivi­ty across Europe.

The polyphonic foundation of all “learned” sacred music is honored in the Missa Brevis by Giovanni Pierluigi da Pal­estrina, whose seamless voice-leading and harmonic clarity became the pedagogical ideal for “pure” church music. Bach himself owned a copy of Palestrina’s works and admired their formal elegance. Palestrina’s original setting, entitled Sine Nomine, was for unaccompanied voices. However, in the late-Baroque Lutheran context, certain portions of the Mass (even those using traditional Catholic texts) were performed with instrumental accompaniment. In this performance, you will hear Palestrina’s Kyrie in its original a cappella form, followed by the Gloria as realized through Bach’s

own style.

After intermission, we turn to composers more directly entwined with Bach’s pro­fessional milieu. Dietrich Buxtehude, whose Abendmusik concerts profoundly inspired Bach’s organ and choral works, composed the mystical oratorio Membra Jesu Nostri, widely regarded as his most ambitious and expressive sacred vocal composition. It fus­es Italianate lyricism, German contrapuntal integrity, and theological introspection, and it left a profound imprint on the next gen­eration — including Johann Sebastian Bach himself. So revered was Buxtehude, in fact, that the young Bach walked over 250 miles to hear him perform. Membra Jesu Nostri is a seven-part cantata cycle meditating on the suffering body of Christ, each move­ment addressing a different member: feet, knees, hands, side, breast, heart, and face. We present only the third movement, Ad manus (To the hands), whose sensual text and vivid musical imagery explore Christ’s wounds with poignant detail.

Georg Philipp Telemann, one of the most prolific composers in Western history and godfather to Bach’s son Carl Philipp Emanuel, was both a close confidant and respected equal. His psalm setting Laudate Jehovam epitomizes the synthesis of French refinement, Italian lyricism, and German contrapuntal structure — the very stylistic amalgam Bach would come to master.

The Bach family was itself a dynastic force in German music. Johann Christoph Bach, a cousin whom Johann Sebastian deeply admired, composed with remark­able emotional gravity. Es ist nun aus mit meinem Leben is a compact expression of sorrow and spiritual transcendence.

Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel, though lesser-known today, was highly esteemed in his time — including by Bach, who not only copied his music but included Bist du bei mir in the Notebook for Anna Magdalena Bach. For many contemporaries, Stölzel was considered among the strongest compos­ers working in Germany. This poignant aria, drawn from his opera Diomedes, remains a treasured jewel of the German Baroque.

The motet Ich lasse dich nicht is often attributed jointly to Johann Sebastian Bach and Johann Christoph Bach. While its authorship is debated—the initial harmonic simplicity contrasts sharply with the hock­et-like fugue of the final section. While its sophistication variability raises questions—it remains a spiritually and musically sub­stantial double-choir work. It is a plea for divine presence: persistent, vulnerable, and fervently faithful.

The program concludes with the final movement from Bach’s masterwork, the Mass in B Minor: the radiant “Dona nobis pacem.” As the crowning statement of his lifelong engagement with sacred music, it unites the diverse voices, styles, and tradi­tions explored throughout this program. What is striking in this setting is the depth of complexity achieved through seemingly simple materials. With only four vocal lines and sparse orchestration, the harmonic texture—particularly its modal inflections—is remarkably sophisticated. The music is deceptively difficult, yet its emotional gravitas befits its role as the closing suppli­cation of one of history’s greatest musical achievements. As with so much of Bach’s work, it is more than music — it is a prayer, not only for peace, but for unity in a richly interconnected musical legacy.