As far as I’m concerned, this release goes
straight up against that of vocal ensemble Cinquecento on the Hyperion
label, which was one of my Recordings of the Year in 2012 (see
review).
Not only do these two discs share the Richafort
Requiem but just
about every other track as well. The Hyperion disc gives us 70 minutes
to Signum’s under 60, so we start at something of a disadvantage,
the only works not covered by Cinquecento being the Jacquet of Mantua
Dum vastos Adriae fluctus and the Josquin
Salve regina.
The King’s Singers vocal sound is in general rounder and warmer
than Cinquecento’s, who sing pretty much entirely without vibrato.
This is not to say that King’s singing is laden with wobble, by
no means, but this is an essential part of their colour and manner of
projection. Which you prefer is a matter of taste of course, but I found
myself liking both. If it wasn’t for the Cinquecento disc I would
be endorsing this one without reservations. The King’s Singers’
reserved expression and sense of tender intimacy is clear from the outset,
the programme revealing these qualities in Appenzeller’s lovely
four-part
Musae Jovis. What you have from this recording is more
of a sense of religious devotion, characterised by the praying hands
on the cover. Cinquecento give more of a ‘concert’ performance
- exquisite and perfect, but reaching out and captivating you as an
audience rather than giving the impression of cloistered monks performing
for their own circle and to the glory of the Deity. This is a subtle
and subjective impression, and the King’s Singers are no means
small-scale the whole time, but with a less resonant acoustic and a
generally quieter dynamic they create a deliciously personal atmosphere.
In terms of actual interpretation and performance The King’s Singers
are uncontroversial, and timings do not differ to any remarkable extent
between the two versions. Diving straight into the main work, Richafort’s
Requiem is delivered with all of the beauty of sound and little
chills of dissonance you could hope for. Where Cinquecento’s homogeneity
of sound creates a marvellous ‘whole’, The King’s
Singers’ more diverse vocal character creates its own moments
of magic, and if you are not hooked by the remarkable tonal clashes
in the opening
Introitus then you may need to consider a soul
transplant. These moments are given a touch of emphasis, but there is
nothing mannered or artificial about the performance.
Which do I prefer? In the end my choice would be Cinquecento, but by
a very close margin and by no means exclusively. With the Cinquecento
performance you can lose yourself and mentally bathe in the music, allow
yourself to be transported into heavenly realms, feel your earthly woes
recede into insignificance. It is for this reason that I would stick
with the Hyperion disc in a Richafort cook-off. If on the other hand
you want to be
moved by this music on a more human scale or earthly
plane, then The King’s Singers hit the spot. Those voices emerging
from sublime textures and tugging at the heartstrings have their own
special quality, and I’ve found myself increasingly admiring the
qualities of this performance the more I’ve delved into its expressive
beneficence.
As you would expect, the recording is impeccable, all texts are given
with English translations in the booklet, and there are useful notes
by David Skinner whose scholarly contribution to this fine release is
also acknowledged.
Dominy Clements 
