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Recording

Lambert de Sayve: Ad Vesperas

Ensemble Polyharmonique, Alexander Schneider; Concerto Imperiale, Fabien Moulaert
69:03
Musique en Wallonie MEW2201

The cathedral of St. Lambert in Liège was one of the richest and best-served ecclesiastical centres in Northern Europe in the 17th century, with sixty canons and connections to a large number of collegiate churches and abbeys from which it could call on musicians. The Grand livre de choeur de Saint-Lambert of c. 1645, which survives in the library of Liège Conservatoire, contains fifty-odd motets for from four to eight voices and includes five Vespers-related pieces performed on this recording. They are arranged as part of an extended Marian Vespers, with three psalms and a Magnificat for double choir by Lambert de Sayve, a fourth double-choir psalm by Matthieu Rosmarin, and motets by de Sayve, Lambert Coolen, Henri de Romouchamps and Léonard de Hodemont. The singers of Ensemble Polyharmonique, together with the wind players of Concerto Imperiale, provide a rich tapestry of sound, beautifully balanced and expertly recorded. There are plainchant antiphons and organ music by Andrea Gabrieli, Peter Philips and Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, confidently played by Concerto Imperiale’s director, Fabien Moulaert. Sweelinck’s Écho, unique to the Grand livre, is a real tour-de-force, lasting nine and a half minutes (details of the organ are not provided). I was also particularly struck by de Sayve’s setting of the motet O admirabile commercium performed by male voices and low instruments. An extensive booklet in French, Flemish, English and German contains comprehensive liner notes by the musicologist Émilie Corswarem, an expert on the music of Liège. This recording is a real pleasure to listen to and shines a light on a neglected corner of the festive music which graced high holy days in Northern Europe in the early Baroque.

Noel O’Regan

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Recording

Miscellanées

Elisabeth Joyé harpsichord
62:00
encelade ECL2202

This recording grew out of a Covid lockdown project in which Joyé recorded a series of videos of very short pieces covering the whole of the early keyboard repertoire for sharing with students and friends. The CD is a collection of the earlier pieces from that project, many of them very short indeed. It includes music by major 17th-century keyboard composers and makes for a varied and informative programme. Perhaps because of the nature of the project, I found much of the playing to be rather too careful, correct but not very exciting, especially in some non-imitative pieces which would have benefitted from some more panache. I did enjoy her rendition of the Capriccio cromatico by Tarquinio Merula, with some nice uneven semitones, and some similar chromaticism in a Pavan by Orlando Gibbons and a Froberger Fantaisie. The playing does come more alive in some chaconnes by D’Anglebert, Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer and Georg Böhm. Most of the programme is played on an Italian virginal by Jean-François Brun after an anonymous instrument of 1626. She also uses a polygonal spinet at low pitch by the same maker, after an anonymous instrument of 1560, and a 4’ harpsichord by Amadeo Castille after Pisaurensis 1543, also made in the Brun workshop. All are recorded quite closely and produce a satisfactory sound. Something of a mixed bag, then, but worth listening to, nevertheless.

Noel O’Regan

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Recording

Le Salon de la rue du Hasard

Mlle Certain, claveciniste du Grand Siècle (1662-1711)
Mathilde Mugot harpichord
64:56
Seulétoile SE10

This is a very satisfying recording with some highly idiomatic harpsichord playing from Mathilde Mugot. It celebrates the salon presided over by Mlle. Marie-Françoise Certain on the Rue de Hasard in Paris in the late 17th century. Patronised by the fableist Jean de la Fontaine, it played host to all the great French musicians of the time. Sadly, no compositions by Certain survive but this CD seeks to reconstruct some of the music which she knew. It includes some well-known pieces by D’Anglebert, François Couperin, Lully and Jacquet de la Guerre, but also two pieces by the little-known Françoise-Charlotte Ménétou. One of the highlights is a Suite in D put together from dances by the little-known Jacques Hardel, extracted from the Bauyn and Lapierre manuscripts, which surprised me with its accomplishment. A product of the Covid lockdown, the recording marks the debut of this young French harpsichordist who proves to be an excellent interpreter of the repertoire. Her playing is fluent with lots of idiomatic ornamentation which, however, never disturbs the flow or sense of forward movement. Her interpretations are always well directed and convey their meaning easily to the listener. She plays on a harpsichord by Émile Jobin and the recording, made in the Abbaye de Royaumont, displays great clarity. The accompanying booklet is in French only; the Seulétoile website does give some little information in English but its translation of the CD’s title (‘The livingroom on the Hasard Street’) doesn’t quite convey the project’s significance! It is certainly a very welcome recording and an excellent introduction to the French harpsichord repertoire.

Noel O’Regan

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Recording

Fauré: Complete Works for Cello and Piano

Robin Michael cello, Daniel Tong piano
63:21
resonus RES10343

A foray into Fauré – apologies, it was irrestible – on EMR? I have to confess that it is some while since my own musical path took me in this direction. Notwithstanding, some of our more astute readers will doubtless put two and two together with the recognition that ‘early music’ in this instance is applied in the sense that the performances are played on instruments  appropriate to the music, or set up to be. Thus the cello used here is a modern copy of an instrument made at the end of the 17th century by Matteo Goffriller, the founder of the Venetian luthier school, and strung with gut strings. It has a rich tone, with a particularly mellow lower register. The piano is an Erard of 1885.

The CD contains all the works Gabriel Faure composed for cello and piano over a period of some 40 years (if you count the early Berceuse, op 16, which was written for violin or cello). At its heart lie the two late sonatas, the first in D minor dating from 1918, the second in G minor from 1922, being one of the composer’s last major works. The remaining works are all small-scale salon pieces and include the Sicilienne, op 78 (1898), which will be familiar to many listeners from its use in the incidental music Fauré wrote for Maeterlinck’s Pelleas et Mélisande.

Both sonatas utilise music from Fauré’s opera Penelope, first given a long-awaited premiere at Monte Carlo in 1913. But in his excellent note Robin Michael also points to such early influences on Fauré such Renaissance polyphony and plainsong, influences that here reveal themselves in othe occasional hints of modality and rhythmic complexities. Those that think of the composer in terms of the Requiem, the popular piano music or the well-known songs, may indeed be surprised by the fragmentary grittiness of the main theme of the opening allegro of the D-minor Sonata, op 109, where the disjointed rhythm of the piano part creates a disconcertingly discursive effect only dissipated when the music settles to the more lyrical middle section of the movement. The final movement of the same sonata is dominated by an expressive falling motif full or ardent longing. The opening allegro of the G-minor sonata, op 117, is driven by an impatient, thrusting theme led by the piano, it demanding considerable dexterity from the player when later taken up by the cellist, requirements well met by Michael. Conversely, the central andante with its hints of a funeral procession needs an expressive cantabile line, the pianissimo ending of the movement creating a moment of magic from both players.

The smaller pieces require little comment. The fluttering cello part in Papillon, op 77 is brought off with virtuoso aplomb, while the lovely Berceuse, op 16 is lovingly coaxed by both players, in particular demonstrating effectively the sensuality of the cello’s middle register.

Overall these are immensely rewarding performances that have reminded me just how exceptional a composer Fauré is. The sole reservations are to wonder whether a marginally greater use of rubato might have been appropriate at times and to tentatively suggest the bowing in the Sicilienne might with advantage have been lighter. A rewarding, and for one coming to the music from an earlier period, revealing CD.

Brian Robins

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Festival-conference

The Innsbruck Early Music Festival and Haydneum Festival, Eszterháza

Although principally undertaken on opera duty, brief successive visits to two European early music festivals also allowed time to take in a chamber music concert in both venues. While the Innsbruck Early Music Festival is well-established and familiar to early music enthusiasts, that at the palace of Eszterháza, Haydn’s principal place of employment for thirty years, is not. Despite a somewhat isolated location that caused Haydn to complain of feeling cut off from the world, I suspect that it being the home of the Haydneum, a centre for early music recently established on the model of the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, will soon result in it having a higher profile.

The first stop was Innsbruck, where the evening after a triumphant first performance of Graupner’s Dido, Königin von Carthago festival-goers were transported up to Ambras Castle, a Renaissance jewel situated above the city. It is there that the majority of the festival’s chamber concerts are given in the spectacular Spanish Hall, that on 26 August being devoted to an intriguing and well-designed programme featuring two composers that at one time or another in the early 18th century might have contributed to making Innsbruck a rival to London. Handel (represented by his Italian cantata Il duello amoroso) seemingly rejected the possibility of employment in Innsbruck, but Mannheim-born Jacob Greber (d. 1731) having failed spectacularly in London did not, becoming Kapellmeister in Innsbruck in 1707. On the evidence of the three cantatas presented, he was a competent if not especially inspired composer, here unkindly cast into the shadows by Handel’s infinitely superior work. In addition to the vocal works, the programme included chamber works featuring recorders by two other German immigrant composers working in London, J C Pepusch and Gottfried Finger.

The vocal performers were the soprano Silvia Frigato, and the French (despite her name) mezzo Mathilde Ortscheidt, a past prizewinner of Innsbruck’s prestigious Cesti Competition and a singer who recently much impressed me in Cimarosa’s L’Olimpiade at Versailles. The instrumental works and support for the singers were provided by members of the Akademie für Alte Musik, Berlin. Without being entirely sure of the reason, the concert came over as a rather flat. Was it perhaps a hang-over from the remarkable Dido of the previous day? Both singers sang well enough, although Frigato’s tone sounded at times shrill and thin. By contrast, Ortscheidt produced a rich tone and some impressive chest notes, but neither appeared sufficiently involved in communicating texts or producing interesting embellishments. Much the same might be said of the instrumental playing, which was as competent as would be expected from such an eminent ensemble but rarely arrested the listening ear.

What was missing was vividly illustrated five days later in the course of the concert given by the Capricornus Consort Basel in the magnificent and beautifully restored Apollo Room in the palace of Eszterháza. The instrumental works included the fine B-flat Concerto (no 2) from van Wassenaer’s set of Concerti Armonico and three works by F X Richter that provided a pertinent reminder of just how excellent a composer he is. The only vocal work in the programme was the sacred cantata Il pianto di Maria by G B Ferrandini, Venetian-born but long employed in Munich. At the conclusion of the text, a scribbled note of mine reads, ‘good on one level but there is another’ and indeed the singing of mezzo Olivia Vermeulen seemed curiously uninvolved for such a searing text, underscored as it is by painful chromaticism. Chromaticism emerged almost as the keyword of the programme, nearly all the music being inflected by it, sometimes heavily. This feature induced a strong emotional response in the shape of technically accomplished and fully committed playing from the Capricornus players. However, they also produced playing of delightful lightness and great delicacy in the second movement of Richter’s Trio Sonata in A minor, op 4/6 and some affecting cantabile playing from the muted strings in the second movement of the B-flat Sinfonia, VB 59. It was overall a concert that provided an immensely satisfying conclusion to my mini tour of festivals.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Andrea Gabrieli: Le peine de mon cœur

Sébastien Wonner harpsichord
63:00
encelade ECL2102

For those of us whose minds turn to epic choral music or madrigals at the mention of the name Andrea Gabrieli, it is a useful antidote to be reminded of his career as keyboard player and his publications of keyboard music. This repertoire is undoubtedly an extension of Gabrieli’s improvisation skills at the organ, and many of his pieces such as the intonazioni and ricercars would have served liturgical purposes in the lavish services in St Mark’s Venice – we have frequently introduced Gabrieli’s largescale choral pieces with relevant intonazioni to establish the tonality. However, it is useful to hear this music, as well as keyboard arrangements of madrigals and motets, on the harpsichord to remind us that it is perfectly effective, freestanding solo keyboard repertoire. Gabrieli was a truly international musical figure, using Venice’s status as a world power to incorporate pan-European influences into his work. He samples French and German secular songs as well as the music of his Italian contemporaries in his work, but the wonderful spontaneity with which Sébastien Wonner imbues his performances constantly emphasises the improvisatory aspect of these works. He plays a fine 1999 harpsichord by Matthias Griewisch, while the distinctive tuning with its occasional spicy discords permits parallels to be drawn with Gabrieli’s exact contemporary Veronese – more remarkably still in 1585 musician and artist collaborated on a production of Sophocles Oedipus with Gabrieli composing the choruses and Veronese designing the costumes! O to have been a fly on the wall at that performance – both Gabrieli’s music and Veronese’s costume designs survive, so await the attentions of some enterprising opera company! Clearly there is much more to Andrea Gabrieli than his magnificent church music, and this excellent CD emphasises just one further aspect of this kaleidoscopic musician.

D. James Ross

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Recording

La Notte

Concertos and pastorales for Christmas Night
The Illyria Consort, Bojan Čičić
65:52
Delphian DCD34278

Opening with the predictable Vivaldi concerto La Notte and concluding with a premiere recording of a reconstruction by Olivier Fourés of Vivaldi’s string concerto RV270a Il riposo – per il santissimo Natale, this fascinating programme takes us on a wide-ranging tour through repertoire by Biber, Vejvanovsky, Rauch, Finger and Schmelzer. Since hearing Bojan Čičić play at the St Magnus International Festival in Orkney a couple of years ago, I have sought out his eloquent performances of Baroque music. This recording with his own ensemble The Illyria Consort is no disappointment, with stunning accounts of mainly unfamiliar repertoire. I found it difficult to put my finger on what appealed to me so much about Čičić’s playing, until a performance he gave in a small kirk in Orkney of the great Bach solo Chaconne moved him and all of us to tears, and I realised the extent to which his performances relied on his personal passion for his instrument and for the repertoire. This is what comes through in these performances too, as the wonderfully detailed and precise readings are injected with intelligence, musicality and above all passion. A major factor in the attractiveness of this CD is the crystal-clear Delphian sound, supervised by Peter Baxter and a hallmark of this excellent Scottish label. Just like a puppy, this revelatory recording is not just for Christmas, but provides deeply engaging insights into an important strand of Baroque string music.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Mozart: Bastien & Bastienne | Pergolesi: La servante maîtresse

Adèle Carlier, Marc Scoffoni, David Tricou, Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal, Gaéton Jarry
89:15 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS105

The pairing of these two pastoral operas in this latest release from the performance series at Versailles Palace is not just a stylistic decision – performances of a parody of Pergolesi’s intermezzo La Servante Maîtresse in Paris in 1752 established the important strand of Italian opera in France, inspiring Rousseau to write Les Amours de Bastien et Bastienne, taken up as a German libretto by the young Mozart. As a homage to this Parisian milieu, both operas are performed here in French. They rely on a lightness of touch in their musical settings. Mozart uses flutes, oboes and bassoon to enrich the orchestral colour, as well as a pair of horns to enhance the rustic atmosphere, and the subtle interaction of orchestra and voices, the hallmark of his later operatic masterpieces is already evident here. Lovely, neat playing from the period instruments of the Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal injects great charm and energy into this performance, while the three principals characterise their roles well beyond the two-dimensional. Neither of the plots even flirts with profundity, but from the pens of such masters as Pergolesi and Mozart we have beautifully crafted melodies, exquisitely scored, which are very well sung and played here. Listening to the Pergolesi, the less familiar work from my point of view, and a piece more often referenced than performed, it is easy to imagine the stir it caused at these Parisian performances in 1752. This frothy bucolic fare is the perfect foil to the often rather worthy French operas of the time, and it established an attractive alternative which would co-exist with the indigenous musical culture. What I had not noticed before hearing this fine performance in French is the extent to which this 1754 parody of Pergolesi’s original intermezzo (La serve padrona) is in turn influenced by French opera. In addition to presenting both works in fine, well-crafted performances, this version has done us a very useful service in juxtaposing them in performance.

D. James Ross

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Recording

CAMPRA – MESSE DE REQUIEM

Ensemble Correspondances, directed by Sébastien Daucé
69:56
harmonia mundi HMM 902679

There are doubtless many like myself who first became aware of André Campra’s sublime Requiem through the recording made by John Eliot Gardiner in 1979. This new version, by one of today’s most renowned French ensembles, is very different, taking its point of reference not from Campra’s period as maître de musique at Notre-Dame in Paris (1694-1700), but a new theory as to the provenance of a work that has always been surrounded by mystery as to its original purpose and date of composition. That is explained in the scholarly note by Thomas Leconte in harmonia mundi’s booklet. It is too complex to go into detail here, but it makes a convincing argument for suggesting the Mass is unlikely to have been written for either Notre-Dame or the chapelle royale, where Campra became one of the sous-maîtres from 1723. That leaves open the suggestion that it was the Mass directed by Campra in 1700 at the Église des Mathurins for the funeral service of Louis Boucherat, Chancellor of France.   

That the Requiem was therefore most likely written for less grand surroundings than Notre-Dame or the Chapelle Royale probably explains the reasoning behind the substantially smaller forces in the present performance than are usually heard in the work. Given its nature, which chooses neither to stress the terror of death, nor to bathe in grief, but rather create an ambiance alternating between spiritual rest and the joy to be found in the light and peace attained in death, the more intimate forces are highly effective. This philosophy is clearly laid out in the opening words of the Introit, where the blissfully flowing polyphonic lines of ‘Requiem aeternam’ (Eternal rest …) give way at ‘et lux perpetua’ (and let perpetual light) to delicate dancing rhythms that remind us that Campra is today best remembered as the creator of the opéra-ballet. This dual approach dominates this infinitely touching work, which in keeping with the style of French sacred works of the 17th century flexibly alternates the chorus with a smaller petit-choeur that participates in solos or solo ensembles. It is one of the measures of the outstanding qualities of Sébastian Daucé’s performances that he has not only artists of the known stature of soprano Caroline Weynants and alto Lucile Richardot included in his petit-choeur, but less familiar names such as haute-contre Rodrigo Carreto and tenor François Joron also make distinguished contributions. The latter’s beautifully sustained line in Agnus Dei I is just one of the highlights of a performance that overall is of the highest quality.

It is something of a paradox that having persuasively convinced us that the Requiem has nothing to do with Notre-Dame, the subtitle of the CD is ‘& Les Maîtres de Notre-Dame de Paris’, the remainder of it being devoted to the 17th-century predecessors of Campra. Of these, the earliest is Jean Veillot (ca1600–62), composer of a simple, but effective Ave verum corpus, who succeeded his teacher Henry Frémart in the post in 1640, going on to become a sous-maître at the Chapelle-Royale, a familiar route for French composers. Veillot’s successor at Notre-Dame was François Cosset (ca1610–ca1673), substantial portions of whose six-part Mass ‘Domine salvum fac regem’ are included, as is the source motet by Veillot. The notes wax lyrical about the quality of the work, which seems to me a rather unremarkable setting largely employing old-fashioned Renaissance polyphony, but also syllabic homophony. The disc is completed by two fine motets by Pierre Robert (ca1622–99), one, ‘Tristis est anima mea’ being a brief setting of the words of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane, ‘My soul is sorrowful even unto death’, the closely-worked polyphony of the early part giving way to rhetorical emphasis at the point of Christ’s accusation to his disciples, ‘Vos fugem capietas’ (You shall run away).

A splendid addition to Ensemble Correspondances’ distinguished series of recordings of both sacred and secular music of the French Baroque.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Byrd: The Great Service & English Anthems

Alamire, His Majestys Sagbutts & Cornetts, Stephen Farr, David Skinner
77:20
INVENTA INV1015

This recording of Byrd’s mighty and magnificent Great Service and seven Anglican anthems has two purposes. It concludes Alamire’s project marking the quatercentenary of Byrd’s passing in 1623, after their two acclaimed albums of his complete secular song collections of 1588 and 1589 (INV1006, 2021 and 1011, 2023); and it celebrates the centenary of the first complete performance in three centuries of the Great Service, which was “rediscovered” just after the First World War.

Given a work of this quality and quantity – seven movements for ten voices, the most for which Byrd ever composed – it is surprising that there has been so little inquisitiveness about why he wrote it. Certainly it is not the sort of work anyone would write on a whim, or on the off chance of a random performance, or because they couldn’t sleep. The liturgical context – the Church of England’s services of Mattins (three movements), Holy Communion and Evensong (two each) – and the resources that are required suggest some major celebration. In fairness, because it was not printed at the time, there is no evidence from surviving manuscript sources or contemporary writings, and we are left clutching at circumstantial straws, such as the likely dating of the earliest sources, which renders the fortieth anniversary of the Queen’s accession a possibility. Unsurprisingly surviving sources can be located to only a limited number of major choral establishments.

In a piece that is simply so good throughout its entire length, selecting certain passages for appreciation gives an impression that other passages are not worthy of such attention. This is misleading, as every phrase and passage and movement warrants appreciation, but even in this work of such consistent excellence, there are a few passages of transcendent quality. Two will suffice here. The closing text of the Te Deum (the second canticle at Mattins) is “Let me never be confounded”. Byrd does not eschew repetition in his settings during this work, but nowhere else does his setting become not only so emphatic, but also so emotional, exuding both pathos and passion. Was he even expressing guilt and seeking forgiveness from his God over his employment as a known Roman Catholic within the Protestant Established Church? The second passage is the Amen to the Magnificat (the first canticle at Evensong). Usually it is the Amen to its partner, the Nunc Dimittis, which receives the plaudits, led by E.H. Fellowes, the work’s putative rediscoverer and first editor, and this indeed rounds off the work majestically. But perhaps because of the association of the Magnificat with the Virgin Mary, this might have piqued the interest of the Catholic Byrd more profoundly, and one wonders whether he was showing these Protestants, who were more sceptical about the Virgin, a thing or two about the heights to which the mother of Christ could inspire him as a Catholic composer.

The seven anthems selected from the relatively small number that Byrd composed for the Church of England cover most of Byrd’s composing career, from the early Out of the deep with its debt to Byrd’s mentor Sheppard, to the almost madrigalian Exalt thyself O Lord and O God the proud are risen against me. All differ from one another within the constraints of decorum required for the Elizabethan Church, and a point has been made of including those least served by commercial recordings, notably the understated but exquisite O God whom our offences have justly displeased. Most familiar is what is best known as O Lord make thy servant Elizabeth which became performed with increasing frequency during the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth II. The original version had its text adapted several times up until the reign of Queen Anne in the eighteenth century, twice to reflect Charles I and II; past and present come together for its presence on this recording as O Lord make thy servant Charles its sonorous and beautiful Amen bringing the proceedings to an appropriate conclusion.

Also included are Byrd’s three keyboard settings of the plainsong Clarifica me pater in successively two, three and four parts. They are among his finest and most popular pieces for organ and are played here by Stephen Farr, surely the finest living exponent of Byrd’s music on the organ. His accompaniments to the Service and anthems are faultless both in execution and in what is currently known of Elizabethan practice.

This leads to a consideration of the use of winds to accompany the Service. There is no specific evidence for this in the surviving manuscripts nor in any contemporary writings, but there is evidence of the use of cornetts and sackbutts at certain grand services, and of the numbers employed here. Given the grandeur of the music in the Great Service, it seems credible that if winds were used anywhere, it would be for a work such as this, and His Majesty’s Sagbutts & Cornetts make the best possible case for their inclusion.

The actual signing is in the hands, or rather the voices, of Alamire, themselves a roll call of Britain’s finest exponents of vocal music from this period. In both verse and full passages their blend is excellent, and they are directed cogently by David Skinner, himself a former cathedral layclerk and nowadays a prominent musicologist specializing in the Renaissance whose recent and current academic projects feature Sheppard and Tallis. The recording quality is ideal, with just the right amount of resonance from the venue, All Hallows, Gospel Oak in London. Very occasionally the highest and lowest notes in a passage are lost: the booklet draws attention to a fleeting but significant dissonance early in the Venite at the words “in the strength” but the bass is indistinct at this point; and in the Magnificat the very high note atop the chord at the climactic word “hearts” is almost inaudible. Otherwise, this is a sonic triumph, complementing the majesty of Byrd’s musical creation.

There are six other recordings of the complete Great Service currently available: three by mixed adult choirs and three by ecclesiastical choirs. Musica Contexta (Chandos CHAN 0789) is the only other one to use winds, and their disc is valuable for the inclusion of two of Byrd’s elusive and neglected festal psalms, one of which is otherwise only on an LP long deleted. Also they were the only choir until Alamire to include the passage “O Lord let thy mercy lighten upon us as our trust is in thee”, which survives in just two sources, originating from Worcester and Gloucester. The Odyssean Ensemble use an organ accompaniment in a wiry rendition which omits the Kyrie (Linn CKD608). The Cardinall’s Musick (Hyperion CDA67937) are disappointingly pared down from a live performance double the size prior to the making of this recording. Of the ecclesiastical choirs, the version by King’s College, Cambridge (EMI CDC 7477712, 1987, now available as a download 9029532656 on Warner Classics) was hailed at the time in one daily broadsheet newspaper as what King’s choir “is all about”. They used an edition by James Wrightson that took into account new research about surviving indications of full and verse passages, similar to those subsequently adopted by Craig Monson for his edition of the work as volume 10b of The Byrd Edition published by Stainer and Bell. Westminster Abbey (Hyperion CDA67533) includes a fine selection of filler anthems and distinguished organ playing by Robert Quinney. Historically the most intriguing of all these, and arguably the finest, is the recording originally from 1981 by The Saint Thomas Choir of Men and Boys, Fifth Avenue, New York, the only Episcopalian (Anglican in England) church with its own choir school. This version was reissued as a download in 2023 and on CD as a double album early this year to mark the quatercentenary of Byrd’s passing in 1623 (Signum Classics SIGCD776). It is paired with the current choir (2022) singing his Mass for Four Voices and Propers for Corpus Christi (see my review for EMR dated 17 January 2024). Focusing on the 1981 choir, this is the only ecclesiastical version that is unaccompanied, The layclerks of the day included the likes of Drew Minter among the countertenors, and the boys were stunning. Reassuringly today’s choir is just as fine. This is a recording to cherish.

Alamire’s version emerges as the most distinguished among the chamber choirs, being the only one to field the vocal resources adequate to reflect surviving evidence regarding full, verse, and antiphonal (decani and cantoris halves of the choir alternating) passages in contemporary performances. The ecclesiastical choirs exude a different ethos and timbre. They are of course more authentic in performance (and in numbers), but it has been argued that since treble voices in Byrd’s day could last until boys were towards the end of their teens, they would not have sounded dissimilar to those of the adult females in mixed chamber choirs of today. As ever, choice lies with the customer. You would be well served by Alamire and, within an appropriate level of engagement with the text for the singing of Anglican liturgical music in the Elizabethan Church, you will find consummate artistry giving forth a simmering account of Byrd’s sublime music.

Richard Turbet