Mark Padmore

“This, Vivaldi's very first opera, was premièred in Vicenza in 1713 and was an instant hit. The story is a relatively uncomplicated one by the standards of Baroque opera, of amatory pretences and misunderstandings: it has been admirably summarised by Eric Cross (who has edited the work) as a 'light-weight, amoral entertainment in which the flirtatious Cleonilla consistently has the upper hand, and gullible Emperor Ottone (a far from heroic figure) never discovers the truth about the way he has been deceived'. The score proceeds in a succession of secco recitatives (with just a very occasional accompagnato) and da capo arias – which the present cast ornament very stylishly.
There are no duets or ensembles except for a perfunctory final chorus in which the characters merely sing in unison; but there's an abundance of tuneful arias, and when Vivaldi can be bothered to write proper accompaniments to them – he often merely has violins doubling the voice, plus a bass line – he can provide interesting imitative counterpoint. Several arias employ only the upper strings without cello and bass except in ritornellos. The small Vicenza theatre couldn't afford star singers, so only limited opportunities were provided for vocal virtuosity; but the present cast makes the most of its opportunities, both in display and in meditative mood. It isn't always easy to tell the three sopranos apart, but Susan Gritton well suggests the scheming minx Cleonilla; Nancy Argenta with her bright voice has the castrato role that includes several fine arias, and displays a messa di voce in an echo aria; and Sophie Daneman, in a breeches role, produces a wide range of colour. Monica Groop slightly undercharacterises Ottone except when roused to dismiss Rome's anxiety at his dalliance. It's quite a relief to ear one male voice, and Mark Padmore is excellent. Richard Hickox keeps a firm rhythmic hand on everything and delivers quite the best and neatest Vivaldi operatic recording yet.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“The Creation Mass is no less resplendent or searching than, say, the Nelson Mass or the Harmoniemesse, a glorious affirmation of Haydn's reverent, optimistic yet by no means naive faith.
Even by Haydn's standards, the work is startling in its exploitation of colourful and dramatic key contrasts, as in the sudden swerve from F major to an apocalyptic fortissimo D flat at 'Judicare vivos'; the Benedictus, characteristically, moves from serene pastoral innocence (shades of 'With verdure clad' from The Creation) to urgent intensity in its central development; and the sublime G major Agnus Dei has a profound supplicatory fervour extraordinary even among the composer's many memorable settings of this text.
This reading eclipses previous recordings in the quality of its choir and soloists, the subtlety of Hickox's direction and the vividness and transparency of the recorded sound. In faster movements like the Kyrie and the openings of the Gloria and Credo Hickox strikes just the right balance between dignity and happy, pulsing energy, relishing each of Haydn's dramatic coups; and he brings a marvellous clarity and verve, and a sure sense of climax, to the chromatically inflected fugues in the Gloria and at 'Dona nobis pacem'. Abetted by his first-rate orchestra, Hickox is always alive to the felicities of Haydn's scoring, while the 24-strong professional choir is superbly responsive throughout.
We also get the alternative version of the Gloria, and the ultra-compressed (6'49") and instantly forgettable Missa rorate coeli desuper, which David Wyn Jones, in his excellent note, wryly describes as 'a reminder of how perfunctory church music in 18th-century Austria could be'. It's neatly dispatched by Hickox and his forces, but inevitably comes as an anticlimax.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Haydn's first major work, the Salve regina of 1756, is here juxtaposed with his last, the Harmoniemesse of 1802, so-called because of its exceptionally full scoring for woodwind. The gulf between the two works, in sophistication, mastery and emotional range, is predictably vast. Yet, in their very different ways, both reconcile the formal liturgical conventions of their era with the expression of Haydn's own lifeaffirming religious faith. Hickox and his forces ideally capture this sense of celebratory spiritual energy. Tempos are lively, rhythms alert and vital. In the Mass Hickox generates an exhilarating symphonic momentum in, say, the opening sections of the Gloria and Credo, and, aided by an outstandingly clear, well-balanced recording, realises to the full such dramatic coups as the sudden swerve into A flat in the recapitulation of the 'Benedictus' and the martial fanfares that slew the music from D major to B flat at the start of the 'Dona nobis pacem'. The steely edged valveless trumpets are thrilling here; and elsewhere the wind players do rich justice to Haydn's glorious writing, nicely balancing rusticity and refinement.
Nancy Argenta's innocent, bell-like tones and graceful sense of line are heard to touching effect in the 'Et incarnatus est' of the Mass. In the Salve regina, she also reveals her deft, fluent coloratura technique. No great depths in this youthful work, but Haydn's setting of the Marian antiphon is elegant and affecting, with a command of shapely, Italianate melody and a feeling for dramatic contrast. This is certainly the most memorable work of Haydn's from the 1750s and aptly complements Hickox's fervent, inspiring reading of the Harmoniemesse.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

'The richness of Purcell's musical invention sweep all before it, and these records demand to be heard above all for "the greatest Genius we ever had"' (The Sunday Times)

“Excellent recording in the demonstration bracket” CD Review