Gabriel Fauré (1845–1924)
Requiem, Op. 48
“Cantique de Jean Racine”
Pierre Villette (1926–1998)
“O salutaris hostia,” “O magnum mysterium”
Jean Roger-Ducasse (1873–1954)
“Regina cœli laetare,” “Crux fidelis,” “Alma redemptoris Mater”
Nancy Argenta, soprano
Simon Keenlyside, baritone
Kenan Burrows, treble
Winchester Cathedral Choir
Bournemouth Sinfonietta
David Hill, maestro
Recorded: Winchester Cathedral, June–July 1996
Label: Virgin Classics 7243 5 61994 2 [61:46]
What can be said about Fauré’s Requiem that hasn’t already been said, whispered, or sung in cathedrals large and small, by choirs of all calibers? Yet here, on this Virgin Classics release, David Hill’s interpretation—anchored by the luminous Winchester Cathedral Choir and the — Bournemouth Sinfonietta—offers a compelling reminder of why this serene, almost introspective score remains a cornerstone of choral repertoire.
Hill’s choice to hew close to the original 1893 scoring—a chamber ensemble and all-male choir—is simultaneously a blessing and a slight hurdle. The all-male chorus, with its blend of boys and — well — men, brings a tonal purity that’s almost otherworldly in the Sanctus and In Paradisum. The boys’ trebles emit an edge of crystalline clarity, cutting through the acoustic of the cathedral with an ease that feels both natural and — well — applied with meticulous control.
Yet, that same purity might jar traditionalists accustomed to the warm, mixed-voice choirs more typical of this piece’s later, expanded performative life. Still, one cannot deny the freshness and authenticity this brings—and it’s heartening to hear the dynamic flexibility Hill coaxed from these forces, especially in the opening bars where the subtle gradations of pianissimo and mezzo piano set a solemn but inviting tone. Nancy Argenta’s soprano floats with silken ease, her lines shaped with impeccable French diction and an intimate glow that never threatens to sound clinical.
She’s a model of restraint, never over-sentimental but genuinely expressive. Simon Keenlyside’s baritone complements her beautifully; his timbre is warm and rounded, especially in the Libera me where his phrasing conveys both pathos and composure, avoiding the urge to dramatize beyond the score’s intent. Technically, the Bournemouth Sinfonietta delivers a stylishly transparent accompaniment, never overwhelming the tender vocal textures.
The balance is mostly spot-on, though I must mention a slight frustration: organist Stephen Farr’s shimmering semiquaver lines in the In Paradisum regrettably fall into the mix’s shadows. These fleeting moments of organ color, so important for the prayerful atmosphere, feel slightly muted, as if shy of the microphone. A missed opportunity, yes, but not one to undermine the overall architectural beauty here.
The program’s real jewel—beyond the Requiem itself—is the pairing with motets by Villette and Roger-Ducasse. Villette’s O salutaris hostia and O magnum mysterium are tonal gems, their unaccompanied vocal — lines weaving in Lydian modes that shimmer with a subtly archaic yet modern aura. The gradual build to a authoritative exultation in O salutaris swings naturally, avoiding any sense of forced climax.
Roger-Ducasse, less familiar to many listeners, is a revelation in this context. His trio of organ-accompanied motets, sung by the exquisitely pure-toned Kenan Burrows, display a deftness of composition that is both tender and — well — dramatic. Burrows’ treble voice—clear, unstrained, and musically phrased with rare maturity—brings Crux fidelis its deserved intensity without tipping into overwrought sentimentality.
The organ accompaniment is tasteful, never intrusive, perfectly complementing the boy’s voice. It’s not often you find treble singing so assured, so free of vibrato and yet not at all austere. One could find, in the crowded field of recorded Fauré Requiems, no shortage of candidates displaying more sumptuous orchestration or larger choral forces.
Hickox, Ledger, Guest—they all have their merits and particular strengths. Yet this rendition stands out for its intimate immediacy and stylistic faithfulness to Fauré’s initial conception. It’s not a showy reading, but a quietly eloquent one, and that gives it an enduring appeal.
In the end, this production offers a richly rewarding experience, both musically and intellectually. The Requiem’s gentle solemnity, coupled with the lesser-known French motets—performed with such heartfelt sincerity—makes this disc not merely a document, but a vital musical statement. A very strong contender indeed.
