Maurice Durufle has published three versions of his Requiem, and regards them all as of equal validity. The one with full orchestral accompaniment is the most familiar: it is adopted by Andrew Davis for CBS and Hickox for Argo; Ledger on HMV uses the plainest version of the three, with no more than an organ and a solo cello supporting the chorus and soloists. Of the third alternative, using chamber orchestra and organ, this is the first recording to appear here, and as you would expect it is this version that most reminds one of Durufle's obvious exemplar, the Faure Requiem. It does not so much combine the virtues of the other two as temper their extremes: it warms the chaste coolness of the organ version with strings and uses trumpets and timpani to dramatic effect (rather as Faure used the horns in his Requiem); it tones down the Respighian opulence of Durufle's full orchestration and allows the use of a small chorus to concentrate attention on the sweet subtleties of his choral writing.
The performance is a very good one: the expert and pure-voiced chorus manage some marvellous shadings of colour at the lower end of the dynamic range; the organ (audible throughout, like a continuo instrument) is a fine one, and beautifully played; the soloists are ideal, able in this context to sing in a restrained and lovely mezza voce almost throughout. And a number of Durufle's more delicate effects, either because of the edition used or because the understatement of that edition and the quiet expressiveness of the performance are so well-matched, come off better in Best's account than in any of the others: the very beginning, for example, where his slowish tempo is absolutely right (less justifiably he is rather placid in the Sanctus too), the withdrawn, hushed quality at the ''Requiem aeternam'' section of the Libera me, and the almost static, contemplative manner (achieved with great control) in the In Paradisum.
Strongly recommended, therefore, both for the admirable compromise of the edition used and for the beauty of the performance. I wish I could be as enthusiastic about the recording. It was I could be as enthusiastic about the recording. It was made in the ample acoustic of St Jude's, Golder's Green, and for all one's gratitude for the wholly appropriate liturgical atmosphere there is a price paid in clarity, especially in the more fully-scored pages, which are muzzy and dense, and in those requiring clean attack, which are softened. You may not mind the sound: another ear might hear it as warm or atmospherically distanced (the chorus is rather backwardly placed), but mine was straining, sometimes, to pick out details that ought to be more clearly perceptible in this version of the score than in the fuller one. Ledger, of course, provides this clarity with ease (though with no lack of space around the sound), and his version would still be my choice for that reason.
Of the two full-orchestral recordings, I prefer Hickox, whose cleanly-focused sound and pure-voiced chorus effectively moderate the richness of the scoring; Andrew Davis's account is for those who prefer richness and warm colour, applied with a generous hand. Despite my reservations, though, the new performance provides something like the best of all worlds in the quieter and more pensive pages, and they predominate, of course. And Best offers perhaps the most sensible of the fill-ups (Ledger has only two of the Op. 10 Motets, Davis the pretty Danse lente and Hickox nothing at all).'