We have here a programme that is absorbing in so many ways. It is a carefully chosen collection of chants, conductus and organa, executed with care and thought. In particular, standing out above the tenors, Lycourgas Angelopoulos gives a shining performance of cantorial excellence of Leonin’s two-part setting of the gradual Benedicta et venerabilis. Peres is on top form in several pieces, the Kyrie, the Alleluia, the Preface and the Agnus Dei. In the three- and four-part organa by Perotin the blend and balance are well adjusted. We have French pronunciation of the Latin throughout, as recommended by the pundits. The vocal timbre, at times vibrant and assertive, at other times of a gentler, more nasal quality, is kind on the listener’s ear. The slowish tempo of the chant – on average one note per second – is a welcome change from the usual perfunctory hurried rush.
And yet, with all those pluses, I still find myself left with an uneasy feeling of puzzlement over the style of ornamentation. I turn to the notes for enlightenment and I find many ideas I would willingly endorse: “The musical flow, too, was linked to the degree of solemnity: the more solemn the Feast, the slower was the pace of the music.” This, indeed was an ancient, oft-quoted principle. “Slowness also denotes profusion in the ornamentation.” Entirely plausible. “Organum was an extremely sophisticated art of ornamentation and this essential aspect has unfortunately been completely ignored by 20th-century performers.” This is only too true. Why, then, does this superbly ornamented performance appear so different from that described by Jerome of Moravia – whom, indeed, they actually quote – and the Friar of Bristol, with musical examples written out for all to see?'