EUGENE - "The devil is in the details," goes the old adage.  When Helmuth
Rilling is on the podium, it is clear that so are the angels.  Details
account for much of what's bad and good; much but not all.

In a brilliant paradox, however, the Oregon Bach Festival artistic director
excels in presenting the wholeness of a work, while digging deep for the
meaning, the full realization of every phrase, every note.

On Friday night, when Rilling opened the 33rd season of the festival he
co-founded with Royce Saltzman, there were amazing, thrilling instances in
Hult Center of both the macro and micro treatment.  The task was to present
what is arguably the greatest Bach of them all, the B Minor Mass.

Rilling, his soloists, spectacular orchestra and Kathy Romey's world-class
festival chorus once again helped to bring forth beauty in the sense of
Thomas Mann's definition: that which alone is both divine and visible...
or, in this case, audible.  In Rilling's interpretation, this combination
Mass and Passion deals with the divine in a continuous arch of meaning,
more than of chronology, in terms of majestic beauty.

Beneath the cathedral structure, Rilling drills down to minute details,
reveals subtext under subtext.  Others may gloss over the strange,
meandering harmonies before the D-Major explosion of the Resurrection;
Rilling brings into focus fractional glimpses foreshadowing, intimating,
hoping for that fulfillment Of the umpteen repetitions of Hosanna, Rilling
gives freshness, individuality to each.  In the complete fusion of all
musical forces in the concluding Dona Nobis Pacem, you can still focus on
individual instruments and hear them both as separate voices and as parts
of the fabric.

But here comes the strange part: of the dozen-plus Rilling B Minor Mass
performances I have heard (among 11 in Eugene and more than 200 elsewhere),
Friday night's was not among the best.  How is that possible - if the whole
of the work is done so well and if the details are all worked out, what
else is there? It's difficult to say, but when it's there, you know it.
It's the X Factor, the click, the transformation of a performance into
something overwhelming, when you stop taking stock and lose yourself in
the music.

It didn't quite happen this time, not for me, anyway.  I think if only
there could be another performance, it might.  In the event, from the
excessively heavy, plodding, earthbound Kyrie, to a weak Confiteor (which
did develop into a breathtaking, hushed last line) through good but not
great choral performances in the dramatic heart of work, the Credo, magic
at times was promised, not delivered.  I missed the "click" all the more
because entrances were crisp, cutoffs flawless - there were no "mistakes"
- and there were many reminders of the times when it all came together
better.

On an individual basis, there were many triumphs.  Among the soloists,
it was Ingeborg Danz's apotheosis, the alto surpassing all her remarkable
previous performances.  She doesn't seem to sing anymore, the voice pours
forth from somewhere., her projection simply incredible - there is no
"volume" or effort, the voice just reaches out and envelopes the hall.

Thomas Quasthoff, of course, has been practicing this kind of witchcraft
for a long time and this performance was no exception.  Quoniam and Et in
Spiritum Sanctum were both simple and moving.  The soprano, Karina Gauvin,
is young and promising; she sang well, but sound somewhat generic: no
significant individuality is present yet.  Christopher Cock is advertised
as a tenor, but however well he sang, his is a male alto, which doesn't
sound right for the role.

The B Minor is arguably the most instrumental of Bach Masses and the
small orchestra was phenomenal, every one of the many obbligati was to
treasure.  Lorna McGhee's flute soared high twice in major roles; Guy
Few astonished both with his trumpet and the festival-commissioned corno
da caccia; concertmaster Elizabeth Baker's obbligato for Laudamus made
time stop. Among the hardest-working and most effective instrumentalists:
John Steinmetz, both as continuo and with several bassoon obbligati;
oboists Allan Vogel, Kimaree Gilad and Marsha Taylor.

The elements, the talent, the willingness, the dedication were all there.
One coordinate for a stellar journey was missing.  Otherwise, all was well
with the world.

Janos Gereben/SF
In Oregon, to July 8
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