There may be a more profoundly beautiful recording of Fauré’s Requiem out there, but if so, I’ve not heard it. I defy any sensitive soul not to be transported into a state of near rapture by the unspeakably delicious Sanctus, the solo violin of Luc Héry floating ethereally above the choral and orchestral textures like a skylark in full song.

What is it that makes this such a sublimely beautiful recording of a work which, let’s face it, is more than generously represented in the catalogues? For the record, incidentally, this is the original scoring of the work – organ with chamber orchestra minus violins – which was finally published in 1969. It’s not just the lovely sound produced by the three dozen voices of Accentus, unquestionably one of the really top-notch choirs around at the moment, or the angelic voices of the Maîtrise de Paris which point us heavenwards in the closing In Paradisum. Nor can the credit for such unremitting loveliness be laid wholly at the feet of the members of the Orchestre National de France, handling this famous score with rare sensitivity and delicacy, or the wonderful pair of soloists. Stéphane Degout brings immeasurable poise to the Hostias, while Sandrine Piau’s Pie Jesu has a wholly unaffected aura of purity and innocence – and has the string response to each line ever before been captured on disc with such utter gentleness?

These are all exceptional elements, but the two things which transform this are the recording’s location and Laurence Equilbey’s inspired direction. The famous Parisian church of St Clotilde imbues the whole thing with an atmosphere of warmth and great tranquillity, the organ pedals perfectly proportioned (and superbly captured by the Naïve engineers), while Equilbey shapes and caresses every single phrase, every line, every note with the kind of loving care few conductors ever lavish on such a well known and technically undemanding score. The result is a genuinely revelatory reading.