Peter Phillips

The graphics for this Tallis Scholars release mention scholarly disagreement over the Missa Mater Patris, long attributed to Josquin but "recently shown to be by the little-known Noel Bauldeweyn," writes director Peter Phillips. "Or is it?" he adds. He sketches out the controversy, pointing out that the mass does not resemble any of Josquin's other compositions in the genre; he doesn't answer his question. However, you might take the album as a rejoinder to those questioning the authenticity of the mass. Its possible removal from the Josquin canon rests entirely on this musical evidence, so Phillips is entitled to adduce musical evidence of his own: the genuine Bauldeweyn mass included here sounds nothing like Josquin but is basically a work in 15th century style with a bit of imitative counterpoint thrown in.

The 1980 recording that not only made the Tallis Scholars a household name, but effectively led the way to today's great wave of exceptional mixed-voice choirs. Alison Stamp is faultless in the exceptionally testing soprano solo - top Cs and all - while, with the choir and solo quartet placed some distance apart, the perfect acoustic of Merton College Chapel is captured to perfection by Gimell.

The Portuguese school of Renaissance composers is only just beginning to be explored. It came to maturity relatively slowly, and when it finally did, in the first half of the seventeenth century, much of the rest of Europe had moved on to a new musical world. Only countries on the edge of the continent – especially England, Poland and Portugal – continued as late as 1650 to give employment to composers who found creative possibilities in unaccompanied choral music. Even so, very few of these composers remained completely untouched by the experiments of Monteverdi and the new Italian Baroque school, so that their music became a fascinating hybrid, looking forward and back, often unexpectedly introducing twists and turns to what otherwise might be taken for pure ‘Palestrina’.

During the years before and after 1600, Portugal produced a small crop of masterful Requiem Masses. All of them seem to have taken Victoria's famous six-voice Requiem as a model, setting the traditional chant melodies in long notes in one of the soprano parts, accompanied by harmonious chords rather than imitative counterpoint. The Requiem by Duarte Lôbo presented here is a particularly good example. Like his compatriots, Lôbo composed his Requiem in a major tonality; Victoria's captivating gloom is replaced by an equally captivating sweetness–this funeral music is anything but morose. The Missa vox clamantis is altogether more extroverted, with a striking octave leap that begins every movement. Peter Phillips and the Tallis Scholars give the skillful, sonorous performances we've come to expect from them.

The Missa Corona spinea is a kind of treble concerto, packed with mind-blowing sonorities. If ever there was music to exemplify Shakespeare's 'Music of the Spheres', it is here, and especially in the two ecstatic treble gimells. The first performance, probably in front of Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey, must have been an astonishing occasion.

Peter Phillips has here deliberately paired two sharply contrasted parody Masses … the former … is marvellously bright and open and is given a correspondingly outgoing performance, while the latter, inflected with chromaticism and melodic intervals that constantly fall back on themselves, is darker-hued and more plaintive, a mood well captured here in the intensity of the singing. The recording, made in the Church of St Peter and St Paul, Salle, Norfolk is well handled and adds powerfully to these flexible, expressive and beautiful readings.

Turn down the lights and get out your joss-sticks for this one: a selection of sixteenth-century Tenebrae music for Holy Week, among the most evocative parts of the liturgy. Since they had already made successful recordings of the Brumel, Tallis and White, it was a good idea for The Tallis Scholars to add new recordings of Tenebrae settings by Alfonso Ferrabosco the Elder and Palestrina. As Peter Phillips points out in his brief note, the only textual feature they have in common is their all ending with the passage “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, convertere ad Dominum Deum tuum”. Otherwise the texts that the various composers selected from the Lamentations of Jeremiah are quite different; but all show an intensity and a devotional power that work cumulatively to produce a remarkably satisfying disc. And it is endlessly fascinating to hear the different approaches to these anguished texts.

This recording presents three traditional ways of celebrating Christmas in music – medieval carols, Renaissance motets praising the Virgin Mary, and German chorales. The medieval pieces are sung in their original forms, without modern ‘arrangement’. All those performed here are of English provenance, and culminate in three versions of the Coventry Carol, which include Byrd’s famous Lullaby.

Renaissance composers frequently based sacred works on the melodies of secular songs, which were typically placed in the tenor part as a cantus firmus. The mixing of such elements, as in Josquin's Missa Di dadi and the Missa Une mousse de Biscaye, which were based respectively on the chansons N'aray je jamais mieulx and Une mousse de Biscaye, was common practice in the 15th century. However, Josquin also used images of dice in the tenor part of the Missa Di dadi, which have been interpreted as symbols representing time ratios, indicating the length of notes relative to the other three voices.

A pupil of William Byrd, Thomas Tomkins' technique as a contrapuntalist was second to none, as can be heard in the Great Service or the anthem O God, the proud are risen against me. In this respect alone he was the composer who most obviously continued Byrd's achievement.