If Henry Desmarest has not yet joined other French baroque composers among the ranks of the Great Rediscovered (there is currently just one other work of his in the catalogue), here is a disc which ought to help him on his way. Born in Paris in 1661 and spotted early as a talented young composer, he wrote music both for the royal chapel and for the Paris Opera, but his career subsequently took a number of poor turns, not least a death sentence for a kidnapping in 1700 which forced him to spend the last 40 years of his life in exile. The resulting exposure to music from abroad – including Spain, where he spent some years at the court of Philip V – undoubtedly colours his later works, yet no more so than do a solid ability and a musical personality that have gone unrecognised for too long.
These three grands motets were composed between 1708 and 1715, the early years of his time as musical director to the court of the Duke of Lorraine. Scored for soloists, choir and orchestra, each is a multi-sectional psalm-setting lasting about 20 minutes. What is immediately striking is not only how strong-boned and well-written the music is, but also how contrasted; here are moments of supreme tenderness (for instance, the setting of ‘He giveth snow like wool’ in Lauda Jerusalem), powerful intensity (‘How long shall I take counsel in my soul’ in Usquequo, Domine), robust grandeur (the final chorus of Lauda Jerusalem) and uplifting rhythmic vigour (the corresponding movement in Domine, ne in furore). And if a tendency towards melancholy is unsurprising given that two of these psalm-texts are penitential, who is to say that we are not also witnessing a reflection of the unhappy circumstances of this composer’s life?
Such music could not have fallen into better hands than those of those arch-revivers William Christie and Les Arts Florissants. Christie’s talent – as in his opera conducting – is to see the work as a totality and not just as a string of separate movements, with the result that the music never fails to punch its full expressive weight, never marks time. With Sophie Daneman and Paul Agnew excellent among the soloists, and choral singing which remains unfailingly vivid and alert throughout, these are vibrant performances that do not put a foot wrong. The recording is clear and nicely balanced, though an unusual profusion of extraneous noises is an irritant. Even so, this is a must-buy for French baroque fans.'