The monumental “Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis”, BWV 21, belongs undisputedly in any list of the top Bach works from his Weimar period. Its first confirmed performance was for the third Sunday after Trinity in 1714, which fell on June 17 that year, although scholars believe that there could have been a prior performance in Halle in late 1713. There is evidence of two later performances, one during Bach’s years in Köthen, and one in Leipzig on June 13, 1723, soon after his appointment as Thomaskantor.

The piece has a bit of an enigmatic provenance. Scholars believe that it could have originated (for Halle?) without the opening sinfonia and including movements 2 through 6, and 9. Then, movements 1, 7, 8, 10, and 11 would have been added for Weimar in 1714. Eric Chafe also mentions the possibility of an even shorter form of the work with just the three choruses based on Psalm texts. This is interesting, as such a piece would stylistically resemble earlier cantatas like BWVs 150, 131, 106, and 4, all of which date from the very early 1700’s (pre-Weimar years).

The librettist, thought to be Salomo Franck, draws on a diversity of source texts. The three “original” choruses (movements 2, 6, and 9), on texts from the Book of Psalms, configure the backbone of the rhetorical arc. Also sourced from the Bible, the text to movement 11 comes from Revelation. The chorale text interwoven into movement 9 is verses 2 and 5 from a hymn by Georg Neumark (“Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten”, of 1657). The arias and recitatives (movts. 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 10) are original poetry.

While the cantata has an affinity with the third Sunday after Trinity, the main message of the libretto (worldly tribulations being the main obstacle in the believer’s journey toward faith and eternity) is central to Lutheran doctrine. This may be why Bach designated the cantata as “per ogni tempo” (“for all times”), thus releasing its obligatory link to that particular Sunday of the church year. The libretto doesn’t incorporate the readings for this Sunday, except for a general reference to verse 7 of the Epistle (1 Peter 5) about “cast[ing] all your anxiety on [God] because he cares for you.” There is also a correspondence between the last excerpt of the Epistle (verse 11) and the Revelation text chosen for the last movement.

The cantata is orchestrated with 3 trumpets and timpani, oboe, strings (in the relatively “new-to-Bach” layout of two violins, viola and violoncello, plus violone), bassoon (with independent parts in several movements), and organ. For the Leipzig revision, Bach added four trombones to double the vocal lines in movement 9. In terms of vocal forces, the piece calls for a four-part choir and soprano, tenor and bass soloists.

The work is structured in two parts, performed before and after the sermon. Given the marked difference in mood and affect between the two parts, it’s interesting to think of the role that the sermon would have played in accruing to the inflection point in the cantata’s narrative.

Part I

Part I is rhetorically quite static. It portrays the believer confined to a place of anguish and despair, bookended by the Psalm 94 and Psalm 42 quotes. Notably, both Psalm verses offer hints of optimism – God’s “consolations”, hope in God who is the “help of my countenance”. However, Franck’s text (two arias with an intervening recitative) does not acknowledge or pick up on these elements. Bach’s music adheres to this overall affect by consistently staying in the key of C minor for four movements, then moving to the subdominant (F) in the tenor aria, only to have movement 6 bring us back and close Part I in C minor again (albeit with a “Picardy third”, possibly hinting at what’s coming in Part II).

The opening sinfonia, which effectively anticipates the mood of the first part of the cantata, is similar in character and orchestration to that of Cantata 12, presumably composed around the same time. It features a solo oboe carrying a hauntingly poignant tune in partnership with the first violin, over harmony provided in longer notes by the second violin and viola. This is all supported by a continuously moving basso continuo in an effective suggestion of disoriented wandering. Three deceptive cadences, and a final flourish of the oboe, perhaps as a hint of hope, bring us back to C minor to make way for the opening chorus.

After three homophonic calls on the word “Ich” (“I”) which emphasize the introspective aspect of the text, Bach resumes the idea of the walking bass from the sinfonia and sets up the Psalm words in imitative fashion on the four voices. The theme itself is built as an unsettling series of repeated eighth notes, which create constant dissonances and resolutions as the structure unfolds. As he reaches the second line of the text, setting “aber” (“but”) as an inverted seventh chord for the entire contingent, a contrasting Vivace section breaks out to depict the “refreshments” of the soul with long homophonic melismas in all voices on the word “Seele” (“soul”). The final utterance of this line is set back to the original tempo, but retaining the busyness of the Vivace and adding new leaping motifs, maybe as an illustration of optimism.

The soprano aria that follows, marked “molt’ adagio”, is set as an expressive “lamento” in a slow, rocking 12/8 meter. Bach brings back the oboe to partner with the voice, both set over a basso continuo line hesitant in character by virtue of the rests on the last eighth of each beat. The idea of disorientation and despair continues to shine through, as the melodic material (shared by the oboe and the voice) includes diminished arpeggios and constant upward and downward appoggiaturas, a typically baroque representation of sighing and angst. Bach constantly delays resolution by using deceptive cadences, and avoids the da-capo structure as a way to propel the narrative forward.

Next, it’s the turn of the tenor, who gets a recitative / aria pair. The recitative is accompanied by strings, and includes some interesting illustrations of keywords, like harsh harmonies on “Klagen” (“cries”), a transparent, sustained E flat major chord for “You were my delight”, or the ascending, almost operatic cries on “I call and cry after you”.

The aria is accompanied with strings as well, and the bassoon gets a part which is independent (albeit very similar) from that of the basso continuo. The movement has a “da-capo” structure, and it deals with the vivid imagery of flowing tears (in the A section) juxtaposed with a raging storm (in the B section), both of which Bach illustrates in music – the former with constant appoggiaturas in 16th notes on the voice and violins on a “Largo” tempo, the latter with a sudden “Allegro” and rapid coloraturas on the vocal line for the word “versehren” (“overwhelm”). After delivering the line mentioning the storm, the tempo and character quickly revert to the original ones. A long, sustained low C illustrates “Grund” (“depths”).

This leads to the second chorus of the piece, again set to a quote from the Psalms. This movement, resembling penitential motets of Bach’s previous generation of composers (as well as some of his own pre-Weimar works), starts episodically, with musical segments corresponding to small sections of text. The first line is set as a homophonic Adagio, with a contrast between a solo and ripieno group of singers. The second line is an imitative and syncopated Spirituoso, with agile leaps and rapid motifs in the instruments, which ends in two chords marked Adagio for “in mir”. A short imitative set of entries and a homophonic setting complete this series, leading to a more extensive fugue for the last line of the Psalm quote, which ends with an Adagio section to close Part I.

Part II

Part II, perhaps reinforcing a message delivered in the sermon, opens with the libretto’s inflection point: Jesus, appearing to the Soul, promises the “sweet refreshment” of the “battle’s crown [or wreath]”. From there, elaborating on the concept from Peter’s Epistle about casting one’s anxiety on God, the libretto charts the Soul’s journey to grace and salvation: first, via additional dialog with Jesus in an aria/duet, then with a cleverly constructed choral movement combining Psalm 116 and the two selected stanzas from Neumark’s hymn, and finally with a tenor aria. The arrival point is the festive song of “glory and honor” to God and the mention of eternity (“Ewigkeit”), the journey’s ultimate destination, with text from the Book of Revelation. In this part of the cantata, Bach’s music is no longer tonally static: it departs where Part I left off via its relative major (E flat, movements 7 & 8), then moves to the dominant, G minor (#9), and, for a final sprint, to F major for the tenor aria, closing with a brilliant and triumphant C major.

Movement 7 is a dual recitative for the Soul and Jesus. As Bach often does, he casts Jesus as a bass and makes the recitative an “accompagnato” with sustained chords on the strings for a “halo effect”. In an interesting use of word painting, “lauter Nacht” (“only darkness [or night]”) is set to a descending seventh. The final announcement of the battle’s crown as a “sweet refreshment” is set to arioso for emphasis, with sudden appearance of agile dactylic rhythms on the violins and voice.

This leads to the Soul and Jesus’ aria/duet, in which Jesus reassures the Soul of its “salvation through the juice of the vine”, in spite of the Soul’s continued hesitancy and apprehension. The movement’s text is constructed to highlight the opposing discourses of the characters, by having corresponding cells in each character’s set of verses match metrically and sonically, while expressing disparate or contradictory concepts (“This soul / that should die / and not live” against “Your soul / shall live / and not die”, as an example). Musically, Bach sets the movement for the two voices over a walking basso continuo line, with the voices chasing each other imitatively or joining together depending on the section of text being covered. Long melismas illustrate “erfreu” (delight) on the soprano line, and “leben” (live) on the bass line. The last line before the written-in “da capo” changes into a lively triple meter to illustrate -and celebrate- the Soul’s final change of mind, as Jesus commands the sorrows and pain to depart.

The next chorus, built by combining a quote from Psalm 116 and the two Neumark hymn stanzas, radiates peace and trust in God’s comfort. Bach again goes back to the motet form and creates a bipartite structure in strict five-part counterpoint. In the first section, sopranos, altos and basses carry the Psalm quote, while tenors deliver stanza 2 of the hymn on its associated tune. In the second section the chorale goes to the sopranos, while altos, tenors and basses carry on with stanza 5 of the hymn. The first section is accompanied only by the basso continuo, but the oboe, strings, bassoon, and, in Leipzig’s revisions, the trombone choir, join the voices in the second section for a magnificent growth in sonoric density.

The mood is now frankly upbeat in the tenor “da-capo” aria that follows, with calls for the soul and heart to rejoice. Simply scored for tenor and basso continuo, the meter is a lively 3/8 and the joyful character is made obvious by the energetic and playful hemiolas on the bass line. The text in the B section juxtaposes weeping and wine (“Weinen” / “Wein”), possibly a nod of the librettist to the story of the wedding at Cana, and definitely an image to underline the transition from the tribulations of Part I to the new state of joyful faith.

Eternity, the ultimate destination, is now reached in the closing chorus. The text explicitly mentions it (“Ewigkeit”), and Bach augments the orchestra with three trumpets and timpani, an unmistakable mark of celebration. The first four lines of text are delivered homophonically by the choir in an Adagio, punctuated by solemn interventions by the orchestra. This majestic opening leads to a fugue for the second half of the text, which is the song of praise just announced. The subject opens with a celebratory C major ascending arpeggio, and the countersubject takes care of the “Amen, Alleluia!” exclamations via long, melismatic strings of sixteenth notes. The instruments, while occasionally doubling the voices, have largely independent parts punctuating the vocal lines with joyful fanfares.