The subtitle of the booklet’s accompanying essay, ‘The Musical World of John Dee’, gives a truer description of this programme’s aims than does the rather equivocal title. John Dee was the Elizabethan age’s foremost proponent of the occult, a magus whose connections extended into the same circles that patronised many of the musicians whose works are heard here. Accordingly, a bizarre streak runs through either the texts of the vocal pieces (famously Dowland’s In darknesse or Byrd’s An Aged Dame, and most explicitly Campion’s Thrice tosse these oaken ashes in the ayre) and the instrumental pieces. The two pieces by Tye have already a certain notoriety in this respect, but the In nomine by the virtually unknown Picforth has a rather discombobulated eloquence which, I am sure, would look completely inarticulate on paper. The centrepiece of the recital is perhaps the contemporary ballad Dr Faustus, a 16th-century version of the tale in 16 stanzas (all sung to the same tune). At 10 minutes, it is the most extended track here, at least in terms of length. The banality of the music is notably at odds with the subject-matter; that would not matter, but for the explicit contrivance of so much of the rest of the music here. That aside, the programme is admirably constructed: a fitting observation when one considers that the alchemist’s art is an apt metaphor for that of devising good programmes.
The programme’s strength is sufficient to recommend the disc, and to withstand the occasional solecism. As a rule, the consort- playing, though fine, is not quite on a par with that of other exponents of this repertory (or with other discs from this group that I have heard). For example, the faster divisions in the Byrd Praeludium and Ground seem to stretch the top part, and there is here and there a certain unevenness in intonation and tone production. Of the instrumentalists, Jacob Heringman acquits himself best to my mind, his duets with either of the two singers providing some of the disc’s finest moments (Ferrabosco’s So beautie on the waters stood has an elegiac quality, reminiscent of the best Airs de cour across the Channel, that I found very moving and will remember). Nor do the singers quite sparkle in the way they frequently have done elsewhere; having said which, Drew Minter shows off his low countertenor register to great effect in the Ferrabosco just mentioned, and his ‘native’ bass voice in the final duet with Hargis on the final track, Campion’s Move now with measured sound. But it is worth saying that the level of musicianship more than compensates for any reservations: lovers of this period need not hesitate, and less seasoned listeners will be similarly rewarded.'