Gallicantus / Gabriel Crouch LASSUS Lagrime di San Pietro

Recordings of Lassus’s late masterpiece have appeared at reasonably regular intervals since the 400th anniversary of his death in 1994. I was very impressed by Gallicantus’s previous disc last year (enterprisingly devoted to Byrd and his lesser-known contemporary Philippe de Monte—10/12); and, with the all-male ensemble on its current form, the new arrival is a strong contender in a small but select field. The sound image is compelling on its own terms, with the homogeneity typical of ensembles with countertenors on the top lines. But it’s a flexible interpretation nonetheless, for Gallicantus have grasped that which not all their predecessors have: despite the biblical provenance of its plot (which tells of the remorse of the Apostle Peter following his triple denial of Christ on the night of the latter’s arrest), the Lagrime di San Pietro is a madrigal cycle first and foremost. Tempo in particular can and should be treated flexibly, in response to both the rhythm and the meaning of the words, but also to the breaks, pauses and contrasts of the narrative.

They do this very well: when the final movement arrives, the listener truly grasps, in turn, that it is not with a madrigal but with a motet that the cycle ends. As with the Ensemble Vocal Européen under Philippe Herreweghe 20 years ago, details are tellingly lingered over, repetitions properly emphasised and the score’s illumination of an inner drama sensitively rendered. The odd glitch of intonation (very rare, in truth) is a negligible price to pay for such an involving experience. (Fabrice Fitch / Gramophone)

Magnificat / Philip Cave SCATTERED ASHES Josquin's Miserere and the Savonarolan Legacy

To celebrate their 25^th anniversary, vocal ensemble Magnificat directed by Philip Cave have created a programme of Renaissance polyphonic works inspired by Girolamo Savonarola's (1452-98) famous meditations written while awaiting execution. One contemplates Psalm 50, Miserere mei, Deus, and another Psalm 30, In te, Domine, speravi. Savonarola was a Dominican friar burnt at the stake for his reformist preaching, his ashes scattered in a river to prevent supporters preserving them as relics.
This disc opens with Josquin's extraordinarily vast setting of the Miserere. Weighing in at just over 17 minutes, it is a motet of grandiose proportions characterised by repetition of the words ‘Miserere mei, Deus' (Have mercy on me, God). This functions like a refrain with five voices framing what is mostly a two- or three-voiced texture. Added to this, Cave employs his full complement of singers for each refrain and uses just solo voices in between, further emphasising the variations of texture. The overall tempo is quite slow if compared, say, to La Chapelle Royale under Philippe Herreweghe, but solo voices allow for a suppleness of phrasing that enhances forward momentum, often with arrestingly beautiful segues between textures such as at ‘et impii ad te convertentur' (‘and the unholy will turn back to you'), where a solo soprano soars over the dying echo of Savonarola's repeated plea.
In Lhéritier's more dense polyphonic setting of In te, Domine, speravi, Magnificat's velvety sound is at its most luxurious. This sonorous ensemble, combined with Cave's unhurried tempi, create a wonderfully melancholic sound world. Their interpretations of the post-Josquin generation of continental composers, Gombert and Clemens specifically, are among the finest on disc.
The programme ends with Byrd's Infelix ego. It's a tender performance; phrases roll pleasingly forwards under Cave's direction and his interpretation nudges Byrd closer to his continental counterparts. My own preference lies with a more demonstrative madrigalian approach such as The Cardinall's Musick under Andrew Carwood, leading to a dramatic final plea ‘Miserere mei, Deus' scorching the texture with emphatic chords. Here, instead, Cave strikes a prayerful note to end his programme. (Edward Breen / Gramophone)