Gaspare's Spontini's French-language La Vestale is probably the most often heard of his operas, but that is not saying much; the work was sung by Maria Callas in the 1950s, but performances are sparse. Here, it is revived in period style by Les Talens Lyriques and conductor Christophe Rousset, and a very good case is made for further attention. The story is action-packed; Julia, in the absence of her lover, General Licinius, becomes una Vestale, a Vestal Virgin and guards a sacred flame. When Licinius returns to town, the flame goes out, and Julia is sentenced to be buried alive. Licinius rallies his troops, vowing to kidnap Julia, and the flame is reignited later by a lightning strike. Spontini's orchestration of this tale is Beethovenian in its dimensions, and despite the difficulties of natural horns, it is exciting to hear this opera as Napoleon (thought to be the model for Licinius) and Josephine (who backed the opera) heard it. The singers are not Callas-level, but throughout, and especially in the choruses, there is a commitment to the text and its meaning that is rare in any kind of recording. Marina Rebeka, in the role of Julia, is fully involved in the character's plight, and the smoky-voiced Aude Extrémo as La Grande Vestale is worth the price of admission on her own. The singers are aided by clear, spacious studio sound engineering from the early opera specialist label Palazzetto Bru Zane, whose high standards are perhaps even exceeded here. © James Manheim /TiVo

What does World music sound like when filtered through Jacob Collier’s harmonic kaleidoscope? His prismatic vision – piling arrangements on top of each like a glass pyramid – has already earned him a Grammy in 2017, for You and I, from his debut album. Then, Djesse came along, like a tornado of styles, a jazz-world fusion where the London-based multi-instrumentalist extended his conceptual and technical dominion to even vaster musical landscapes. So vast, that apparently it’s only the first in a series of 4. If any proof was still needed that Collier is a musical genius in the highest sense, Djesse Vol. 2 is in the pudding. The scope is still extremely wide, thanks to Jacob’s ability to fit any sort of instrument into a song: bag pipes, slap bass and acoustic guitars are all a part of the opening track Sky Above. But that same scope is also widened through different features: Pino Palladino and Lianne La Havas on the romantic soul-trance of Feel, Steve Vai and his unmistakable shredding on top of the polyrythmic funk of Do You Feel Love, and even Chris Thile and his mandolin, threading the needle on the tender I Heard You Singing. The latter song is actually a fair representation of the artistic direction on the second volume of Djesse: there are more references to the Anglo-Saxon tradition, thanks to bagpipes, mandolin and harps galore. Collier also seems to have taken a step back from his jazz influences: his practice of negative harmony through a capella parts certainly highlighted his vocal abilities, but apart from tracks such as Moon River his signature technique is sparser. That certainly contributes to making the music more relatable and more intimate. If Djesse Vol. 2 doesn’t necessarily break any ground from a theoretical perspective, the production value is on point and it also signals Collier’s emotional growth. As a musician, he certainly has nothing to prove, but his evocative power as an artist is still showing considerable improvement compared to previous records. © Alexis Renaudat/Qobuz

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Few will dispute George Friderick Handel being one of the most accomplished composers of the Classical era, but it should also be noted he possessed to an equal degree, a perhaps less-than-esteemed-but-vital gift in those pre-copyright days, the art of self-promotion. Even in the early stages of his career Handel was well-aware of his prodigious talent and sought to promote it to the utmost. It was that ambition which led the young composer in 1706 to Florence, at the behest of one of the Medicis, to assist in establishing the opera in that city. Handel later decamped for Rome where, his reputation preceding him, he quickly made the acquaintance of leading patrons of the arts among the nobility and upper echelons of the Catholic Church, leading to many commissions.One of those commissions came from Cardinal Carlo Colonna for the major work on this recording, a setting of the Psalm, 109 in the Vulgate, 110 in the King James, Dixit Dominus (The Lord said unto my Lord). Regardless of the composer’s young age of 22, it is the work of a mature master. Even more remarkable, Handel, though from a strict and observant Lutheran upbringing, was able to work with his Catholic patrons, setting a Latin text suitable for use in Catholic worship.There are many recordings of Handel’s Dixit Dominus and this is certainly one of the finest, with brilliant performances by soloists, orchestra, and chorus. Conductor Bart Van Reyn’s tempos are on the sprightly side, but never seem excessive or rushed. There is a wonderful freshness and sparkle to this reading, both in performance and the superb high-resolution sound. Particular praise must be made of the three soloists, whose virtuosity and sensitivity to the text are exemplary.A welcome bonus is a much lesser-known masterpiece by a much lesser-known composer, Giovanni Battista Ferrandini: his Marian cantata (mistakenly attributed until recently to Handel), Il pianto di Maria. In the excellent program notes, Aurélie Walschaert writes this lament differs from earlier ones modeled after the medieval text Stabat Mater, where a narrator describes the sorrows of Mary. Most of the text in this composition is in the first-person, with Mary herself describing the sorrows she is witnessing, thus deepening even further the emotion. A prize should go to mezzo-soprano Sophie Rennert, whose astonishingly empathetic delivery of the text will move any listener, whatever their religion. This is a must for every classical library.  © Anthony Fountain/Qobuz

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After his 1998 hit record ‘White Ladder’ and his most recent 2019 album ‘Gold in a Brass Age’, David Gray treats us to a new emotional rollercoaster with 2021’s ‘Skellig’. This delicate album, steeped in deep melancholy and painful sorrow tells the story of Skellig Michael, an island off the coast of Ireland, which devout pilgrims would travel to in a desperate and perilous search of God. One can only imagine the desolation and the forlorn life some would have led there, far from civilisation. This bleakness is evoked throughout ‘Skellig’ with its languishing acoustic guitar, sombre piano and haunting vocals. Simplicity is king on this record, from its instrumentation to its arrangements, there are no musical redundancies or pretentious harmonic structures. It’s music that is boiled down to its richest, most potent form where the superfluous is eagerly omitted. Album highlight ‘Deep Water Swim’ is an elegant piano/drum led piece that would be right at home on a Leif Vollebekk record. Gray’s characterful vocal performance gives the track a charming tone. The second verse takes you away with the introduction of a curious yet gentle stuttering synth and a warm double bass filling out the low end. This, coupled with the lush backing vocals, creates a thick, alluring atmosphere that could warm the coldest of hearts. Nothing short of bliss…  All in all, ‘Skellig’ is a well-balanced, refined and poignant record that merits a long and compassionate listen. Give it a go, this album will put you in touch with your feelings. ©Tom Oscar Adams/Qobuz.

During the sixteenth century in Italy, the motto "i galli cantano" (the Gauls are singing) circulated, acknowledging the supremacy of the Franco-Flemish "transalpine" musicians who were summoned to the peninsula to serve princes and prelates in the techniques of composing and performing vocal polyphony. Josquin Desprez, "Giosquino" to the Italians, was the emblematic figure: in addition to France, he was in the service of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza in both Milan and Rome (1484, 1498) and of the papal (1489-95) and Este chapels (1503-4). On the fifth centenary of the composer’s death (1521), the Odhecaton ensemble proposes to retrace Josquin’s Italian itinerary with the Missa Hercules dux Ferrariæ, composed for the Duke of Ferrara Ercole I d’Este, and a selection of motets commissioned by Italian patrons. The contribution of The Gesualdo Six in the more solemn pieces brings the vocal ensemble to twentytwo singers, a number that is close to the forces of the Rome and Ferrara chapels and yields new sonic results in our quest to recreate how polyphony sounded in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. © Alpha Classics

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John Ireland was something of a child prodigy, entering the Royal College of Music at the age of fourteen. There he studied piano, organ and composition (under Charles Villiers Stanford). He quickly progressed to significant positions as an organist, whilst continuing to pursue his interests as a composer. The Forgotten Rite, from 1913, is one of his earliest orchestral compositions, and was premièred by Sir Henry Wood at the Queen’s Hall. The symphonic rhapsody Mai-Dun was inspired by the Dorset countryside – Thomas Hardy Country – a landscape that exerted a lifelong influence on Ireland. While it was commissioned for the national Brass Band Championships in 1932, Ireland later arranged the central two movements of A Downland Suite for strings. The first and last movements were later arranged by his pupil Geoffrey Bush. The overture Satyricon was one of Ireland’s final large-scale works, and is based upon texts by the Roman writer Gaius (or, in some sources, Titus) Petronius Arbiter, a courtier of Nero. A London Overture and the Epic March were both commissioned by the BBC – the latter as a morale-booster during World War II. It was during this period that Ireland orchestrated The Holy Boy – a piano piece composed on Christmas Day in 1913. © Chandos

The Roots' umpteenth album is titled after a Guess Who song mutilated by countless lounge bands since 1969. It incorporates a Sufjan Stevens recording, mixtape-style, for the purpose of starting a four-part instrumental suite that closes a program lasting only 40 minutes. Based on those details, it would not be irrational to think that the band’s well of inspiration might be dry or tainted. While the well might be slightly tainted, it is full. Undun is based on the life of Redford Stephens, a fictional product of inner-city New York who was born in the mid-‘70s and tragically passed in 1999, the point at which the album begins -- with a quiet EKG flatline. Appearances from MCs Big K.R.I.T., Dice Raw, Phonte, Greg Porn, and Truck North, as well as contributions by singers Aaron Earl Livingston and Bilal, flank principal voice Black Thought, yet this is no hip-hop opera or anything close to a typical concept album. The existential rhymes, seemingly created with a shared vision, avoid outlining specific events and focus on ruminations that are grave and penetrating, as if each vocalist saw elements of himself and those he has known in Redford. What’s more, Undun probably shatters the record for fewest proper nouns on a rap album, with the likes of Hammurabi, Santa Muerte, and Walter Cronkite mentioned rather than the names of those who are physically involved in Stephens’ life. (The album’s app, filled with video clips and interviews with Stephens’ aunt, teachers, and peers, provides much more typical biographical information.) Musically, Undun flows easier and slower than any other Roots album. The backdrops ramp up with slight gradations, from soft collisions of percussion and keys (“Sleep”), to balmy gospel-soul (“Make My”), to Sunday boom-bap (“One Time”). There's a slight drop into sinewy funk (“Kool On”) that leads into a sustained stretch of stern, hunched-shoulder productions, highlighted by the crisply roiling “Lighthouse,” that match the cold realism of the lyrics. The strings in the slightly wistful “I Remember” and completely grim “Tip the Scale” are a setup for the Redford suite, which is nothing like padding. It glides through the movements, involving mournful strings, a violent duel between drummer ?uestlove and guest pianist D.D. Jackson, and a lone death note that fades 37 seconds prior to silence.© Andy Kellman /TiVo

Stormwatch marked the end of an era in Jethro Tull's history, as the last album on which longtime members Barriemore Barlow, John Evan, and David Palmer participated, and the final appearance of bassist John Glascock, who played on three of the cuts (Anderson supplied the bass elsewhere) and died following open-heart surgery a few weeks after its release. Anderson's inspiration seemed to be running out here, his writing covering environmental concerns ("North Sea Oil") and very scattershot social topical criticism ("Dark Ages"). The fire is still there in some of the hard rock passages, especially on "Dark Ages," but most of the songs generally lack the craftsmanship and inspiration of such albums as Minstrel in the Gallery or Heavy Horses, much less Aqualung. Just when "Something's on the Move" seems like it could be the most tuneless track in Tull's history, "Old Ghosts" and "Dun Ringill" follow it with even less memorable melodic material. The latter, in particular, proved that Anderson's well of folk-inspired tunes was also running dry, apart from the instrumental "Warm Sporran."© Bruce Eder /TiVo

"What could be more fascinating than the play of light and shadow? To descend into sensual melancholy, to dare to be fragile and to reveal oneself in its depths and inner nuances. I find that one way of illustrating this complexity of the senses is to compare two musical and pictorial schools: French Impressionism and German Expressionism. The colours and timbres employed by these two schools have long fascinated me just as much as the extreme refinement and detail of the paintings and compositions themselves. Each painter and composer explored the depths of the human soul in his or her own manner. This programme of works composed between 1899-1914 that laid the foundations for modern music is intended as a bridge between Expressionism and Impressionism. This parallel does not claim to illustrate their differences but rather to highlight their common points, to reveal the voluptuous and almost decadent sensuality of these two currents as well as their geographical and stylistic contrasts" (Coline Dutilleul) © Fuga Libera