This Carmina Burana was originally issued on 
          the Classics for Pleasure label back in LP days: it makes a comeback 
          on the same label in this digitally remastered reissue, coupled with 
          two rather-more-civilised choral classics from a previous generation. 
          Whether the additional material is sufficient to ensure saleability 
          of Handford’s frustratingly middle-of-the-road performance of the Orff 
          is the big question. 
        
 
        
The Fauré and Franck are in fact unexceptional. 
          They’re nicely played (the gorgeous solo flute is worth singling out) 
          and sung but there are more refined and polished versions on the market. 
          Unfortunately, the words are well nigh impossible to pick out: inevitably, 
          this leads one to question the point of using the (optional!) chorus 
          in the Fauré, or the (optional!) orchestral accompaniment in 
          the Franck. 
        
 
        
As for Carmina Burana, the Hallé Choir 
          undoubtedly sing with gusto (a necessary quality in this piece) but 
          they’re neither as frolicsome nor as debauched as this music demands. 
          They sometimes sound tired, half-hearted and poorly disciplined: ‘Olim 
          lacus colueram’ is raucous, tonally, and ‘In taberna quando sumus’ garbled. 
          In many of the tuttis, they (or is it the recording?) don’t deliver 
          enough to carry across the hubbub of the orchestra. 
        
 
        
The soloists are, in different ways, disappointing. 
          Sheila Armstrong’s unquestionable artistry serves ‘Amor volat undique’ 
          and ‘Stetit puella’ well enough, but ‘Dulcissime’ is beyond her, and 
          utterly ungainly. Similarly, Peter Hall is impossibly strained in his 
          (admittedly demanding) role. Brian Rayner Cook’s lightweight baritone 
          is pleasing, but his singing style is unnecessarily refined and restrained: 
          it’s never quite big enough for this sort of piece. 
        
 
        
Handford’s conducting seldom rises above the routine 
          and, like the recording (which, though reasonably faithful, is hardly 
          spectacular), is unlikely to lift you out of your seat. You may well 
          find plenty to enjoy, but for a piece such as this – which is full of 
          sparkle, weight and colour – I’m afraid there just isn’t enough sparkle, 
          weight and colour. 
        
 
        
The booklet is the usual cut-price affair, with no 
          words included. With a Latin text, a backwardly-balanced choir and (as 
          often as not) an untidy ensemble, there’s little hope of being able 
          to follow the words. 
        
 
        
You really are spoilt for choice when it comes to recordings 
          of Carmina Burana, and any newcomer or reissue needs to be able 
          to boast some very special qualities if it is to claim a place high 
          up the list. With the best will in the world, this disc doesn’t nearly 
          fulfill those requirements: it really is outclassed by the competition. 
          At budget price, try Mata on RCA Navigator – exciting in every way, 
          and digital! 
        
         
        Peter J Lawson