Vivaldi Sacred Works – Kings College Cambridge

Vivaldi’s Sacred Music: Boys, Baroque Instruments, and the King’s College Acoustic

Gloria in D Major, RV 589; Dixit Dominus in D Major, RV 594; Magnificat in G Minor, RV 610
Sarah Fox, Deborah Norman, sopranos; Michael Chance, countertenor; James Gilchrist, tenor; Jonathan Lemalu, bass
Choir of King’s College Cambridge; Academy of Ancient Music/Stephen Cleobury
EMI Classics 5 57265 2 [68:15]

The Gloria sells the disc, naturally. It’s Vivaldi’s greatest hit in the sacred repertoire—eleven compact movements, each with a tune you can whistle, none demanding more than basic competence from your local choral society. Which makes the question not whether to own it, but which version deserves shelf space.

This one comes with decisions already made for you: boys on the top line, period instruments, the King’s College acoustic with all its glory and pitfalls. Stephen Cleobury has chosen Paul Everett’s Oxford edition rather than the standard Casella/Ricordi, and the differences—a few bars here, some altered voicing there—matter more than casual listeners might expect. The “Laudamus te” gains particular freshness from these revisions, and Sarah Fox and Deborah Norman dispatch the duet with an ease that suggests they’re actually enjoying themselves rather than ticking boxes.

Michael Chance in “Domine Deus, filius patris” reminds us why he’s remained indispensable for three decades. That voice—the color somewhere between burnished copper and old honey—negotiates Vivaldi’s operatic flights with such apparent effortlessness that you forget how fiendishly exposed the writing is. The Academy plays with characteristic bite, though I wanted more brilliance from the trumpets in the opening movements.

But here’s the thing: if you’re agnostic about boy trebles versus women, and if period instruments don’t move you one way or another, the Naxos album with Schola Cantorum of Oxford remains formidable at a fraction of the price. And it couples the Gloria with Beatus Vir, which strikes me as more generous than what EMI offers here.

The Magnificat—an early work, probably 1715—deserves wider currency. Vivaldi was still finding his way, and you can hear him working out ideas that would serve him for decades. The opening chorus is harmonically adventurous, almost reckless in its chromaticism. Then comes “Et exultavit,” pure opera seria transported to the liturgy, and the contrast is thrilling. The movement “Fecit potentiam” depicts the scattering of the proud with orchestral violence that borders on the unseemly. Simon Heighes’s booklet notes call it “highly charged,” which is putting it mildly—Vivaldi practically throws the score across the room.

James Gilchrist proves himself in the three-voice “Esurientes,” where choral interjections punctuate the solo lines. His tenor has that peculiar English quality of sounding both ethereal and grounded, never precious but never earthy either. It’s exactly right for this music.

The Dixit Dominus is the revelation here. Dating from the 1720s, it’s the most ambitious of the three works—written not for the girls at the Pietà but for San Lorenzo, which meant Vivaldi could finally write proper bass parts. The opening fanfares have a Handelian swagger (or did Handel learn from Vivaldi? The chronology gets murky). Those trumpets—assuming EMI’s engineers captured them accurately in that notoriously difficult chapel acoustic—blaze with real authority.

Jonathan Lemalu, new to me in this repertoire, brings genuine heft to “Dominus a dextris tuis,” partnering beautifully with Gilchrist. The vocal writing is imposing without being gratuitously difficult, and both singers understand that Vivaldi’s melodic lines need to breathe, not just be executed.

Did Vivaldi really want trumpet glissandi in “Judicabit in nationibus”? The question nags. Either the composer was being wildly inventive or the copyist had too much wine at lunch. Cleobury opts for caution, which seems sensible if slightly disappointing.

Then comes “De torrente in via bibet,” and Sarah Fox reminds us why she’s become such a fixture in this repertoire. The triplet sequences flow like water—mouth-watering, the original notes say, and for once the hyperbole fits. Her control of the long phrases is exemplary, but more than that, she seems to be listening, responding to the ensemble rather than simply singing her part. This is chamber music writ large.

The recording itself… well, EMI has finally figured out what to do with King’s College Chapel. Twenty years ago their engineers seemed determined to drown everything in reverberance, turning every note into a sonic blur. Here they’ve found the balance—you sense the space without losing definition, hear the building without sacrificing the music. The boys blend seamlessly with the adult altos (always a challenge), and the period instruments speak clearly without sounding undernourished.

So. Is this the Gloria to own? If you want boys, period practice, and intelligent music-making in a generous program of Vivaldi’s finest sacred works, absolutely. The Dixit Dominus alone justifies the purchase. But if you’re simply looking for a solid Gloria to play at Christmas, that Naxos disc remains awfully persuasive.

Context matters. This is a specialist recording that happens to include a popular work, not a popular recording disguised as something more serious. Cleobury and his forces treat all three works with equal seriousness, which means the Gloria gains stature while the lesser-known pieces lose none of their impact. That seems about right.