The Petite Messe solennelle was first performed in Paris in 1864 as a chamber work for 12 singers, two pianos and harmonium, though shortly before his death Rossini also prepared an orchestral version, which was premiered after his death under the title Messe solennelle (there is nothing ‘petite’ about the revised score, though the original title is nowadays used for both editions). Opinions have differed over time about the relative merits of the two; and while many have expressed a preference for the intimacy of the original, it is the altogether loftier, perhaps more overtly operatic second version that has of late come to assume prominence both in the concert hall and on disc.

Gustavo Gimeno and his Luxembourg orchestra give us a sombre, devotional account, carefully avoiding grand gestures or anything that smacks of overt flamboyance. Gimeno places the emphasis on the prayers and petitions for mercy that form both the work’s emotional kernel and its moments of deepest reflection, and the uneasy mood, established in the turbulent opening Kyrie, persists to some extent throughout despite the grandeur of much that follows. The playing is superbly accomplished, the orchestral textures clean yet dark, while the choral singing, from the Wiener Singakademie, is exceptional. Counterpoint is crystal-clear, even in the complex fugues that bring both Gloria and Credo to a close, while the ‘Christe eleison’ is profoundly affecting in its rapt introversion.

So it’s somewhat regrettable that the soloists are less than ideally matched, particularly when placed beside Riccardo Chailly’s more consistently cast Bologna recording. Kenneth Tarver sings with his customary elegance but is pushed in his upper registers in ‘Domine Deus’, while Luca Pisaroni takes time to get into his stride after a tentative start, only really striking form at ‘Quoniam tu solus sanctus’. The women fare better. Eleonora Buratto sounds good in the almost bluesy ‘Crucifixus’ (the comparison with jazz has been more than once drawn) and her voice blends exquisitely with Sara Mingardo’s dark alto in the deeply felt ‘Qui tollis’, which is very much the emotional fulcrum around which Gimeno’s interpretation swings. Mingardo, meanwhile, really comes into her own in the haunting ‘Agnus Dei’, singing with restrained intensity and wonderful evenness of tone. The recording itself is handsomely engineered and scrupulously balanced. If you care for the work, you will probably want to hear this, for the choral singing above all, though Chailly’s performance, with its stronger solo quartet, still leads the field.