Rossini's Petite messe solennelle was originally written for the piquant assemblage of 12 voices two pianos, and harmonium; a scale and quality of instrumental texturing that throws into sharp relief the character of a Mass that looks back to Palestrina, forward to the sacred chamber works of Faure and Poulenc.
The orchestration, which Rossini undertook in 1867, was merely a defensive ploy. If he didn't do it himself, he reasoned, someone else would, probably posthumously and almost certainly badly. Events confirmed this melancholy premonition in as much as it was the orchestrated version of the Mass that received the lion's share of attention in the years immediately following Rossini's death in 1868. Having acquired the rights from the composer's widow, the teacher and impresario, the dreaded Strakosch exploited it for all it was worth.
The orchestrated version has been recorded twice before, first on Period/Nixa (9/54), later on Oryx (11/75); recordings that, mercifully, are no longer with us. And yet, whatever misgivings one might have about the orchestration, a properly representative recording has been long overdue. Happily, the wait is over. Chailly's performance is a glorious heart-warming affair.
Not that you are likely to be convinced right away. To ears accustomed to the Kyrie in its original form, the texturing here is pure suet. Nor does the sound of the largish and here rather distantly placed choir seem especially well focused in the Christe eleison. Poor Rossini: had he merely magicked himself into a garb known as Prix de Rome fustian? Gradually, though, the ear adjusts. the musicians warm to their task, the performance gets into its stride. By the time we reach the ''Domine Deus'', Chailly really has worked out the pace of the wicket. A century before lunch is clearly in the offing, followed by an afternoon of gloriously relaxed strokeplay.
And so it proves. The Bologna Chorus sings the Gloria and Credo with passion, clarity and love. The tenor is adequate, the bass superb. the two girls absolutely fabulous. (The Qui tollis is sung with near-shameless allure.) If the Crucifixus can never be as painful as it is in the sparer original version, this is amply offset by the sheer beauty of Daniella Dessi's singing and by the hair-raising force of the ''Et resurrexit'' (superbly recorded) as Chailly and his choir realize it.
By the end, after Gloria Scalchi's deeply affecting account of the Agnus Dei, I was beginning to wonder whether the orchestral version wasn't more than a match for the original. It isn't, but it is an earnest of the cumulative eloquence of this utterly inspired performance that it comes to seem so. All the movements are used in the orchestral transcription, including the ''Preludio religioso'' which sounds exceptionally well on winds and organ.'