This is a distinguished record, worthy of its equally distinguished composer. Clemens non Papa belongs to that vital but utterly overlooked generation of the mid sixteenth century between Josquin and Palestrina. Largely due to ignorance and prejudice over some 400 years, his music has rarely seen the light of day in modern times. Even a convenient library edition of his works gathers dust quite unaccountably. Admittedly there's the problem of where to begin: Clemens was prolific, and the task of choosing from volume after volume of stylistically consistent music is enough to put off all but the most committed. Having read through the entire lot one rainy summer, I can agree with Peter Phillips that the Missa Pastores quidnam vidistis, the centre-piece of this recording, is one of Clemen's strongest and loveliest Masses. That said, it's questionable whether any Mass really shines brighter than the motets, the genre into which Clemens channelled most of his creative energy. Phillips gives us four motets from an available choice of well over 200, qualified by the remark that ''it is hard to be completely certain that they are entirely typical of all his work''. Personally I should have avoided the hugh and certainly atypical eight-voice Pater peccavi, even the beautiful seven-part Ego flos campi (which has been recorded before), and instead laid stress on the four- and five-part motets that make up the greater part of Clemens's Latin-texted work. Clearly there's room for much further exploration, but for the time being we can be immensely grateful for this initial foray into the field.
As always, The Tallis Scholars give us a high quality of performance. Their interpretations, like the editions from which they sing, are noticeably conservative: latent expression is played down, just as the editions have a certain 'whiteness' by admitting very few of the additional sharps and flats that sixteenth-century singers conventionally added to the scores. Dispassionate and strongly modal, their readings tend towards the monochrome; even the startling and jubilant motet Pastores quidnam vidistis is shaded in sober colours and sung with a certain languor. The Mass itself, which draws extensively from its source motet, has an unrelieved quality; without the plainchant that separates the movements in liturgical performance, it's easy to feel satiated by so many rich courses delivered one after another. Nevertheless it's hard not to be drawn instinctively to this soulful music, with its densely imitative textures and dark, thrilling sonorities. To have it on record is a luxury in itself. To have it sung so lovingly by The Tallis Scholars is a double treat.'