Though Dies natalis was first sung and first recorded by a soprano (Elsie Suddaby and Joan Cross respectively), it is better suited to the tenor, the voice in association with which it is more often heard. This is partly because the soprano’s brightness separates it too distinctly from the orchestra; partly because the vocal style, and perhaps the autobiographical nature of the words, responds more naturally to a man’s voice. Something similar may be true of the Milton sonnets too, though no other performance comes to hand for comparison. Rebecca Evans certainly sings both works very well: her tone still firm and fresh, her development as an expressive, and indeed authoritative, artist making rapid progress. When comparisons come to be made, however, as in the Dies natalis they readily can be, it is to find not only the tenors more convincingly in their element, but also to note that if Vernon Handley’s speeds are only slightly on the slow side, they probably account for the impulse one sometimes experiences to move the performance along or tighten it up.
The other work to have been recorded a number of times is the cycle of Shakespeare song-settings, Let us garlands bring; and here too (but more markedly) a preference arises for other recorded versions. Stephen Varcoe recorded the songs with their orchestral accompaniments conducted by Richard Hickox, and, as with Dies natalis, the quicker tempo helps. More important, Varcoe’s well-equalized voice and evenness of production supply just what is lacking in Michael George’s singing. The low notes benefit from the bass’s greater resonance, but elsewhere there is too little colour and too little of a true legato.
The third singer, Toby Spence, makes a strong impression, though a quick vibrato, which contributes to the character and vitality of his singing ‘in the flesh’, may intermittently disturb some. There is a good incisive ring to his tone in “When I set out for Lyonesse”, and his ample low notes serve well in Farewell to Arms, the happy pairing of poems by Ralph Knevet and George Peele, both using the image of the soldier’s helmet laid aside in peacetime to become a hive for bees. That and the deeply felt Interlude for oboe and strings (this version for full orchestra rather than quartet having here its premiere recording) are among the disc’s principal attractions. And whatever points arise out of comparisons, the attractions are great: here, after all, one spends over an hour with a composer who so reliably proves himself the best of musical companions.'